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*»«%* 




THE BLACK LAMB 


By 

ANNA ROBESON BROWN 

AUTHOR OF 

“ALAIN OF HALFDENE,” ETC. 


rt 


“ If you’ve ’card the East a-callin’, you won’t never ’eed naught else’’ 


PHILADELPHIA 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 




Copyright, 1895, 

BY 

J. B. Lippincott Company. 


Electrotyped and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphu 


TO 


W. O. J. 


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I 


THE BLACK LAMB. 


PROLOGUE. 

The years march on : no faster we than they ; 

The years march on, then hasten while you may ; 

If you are cumbered with a trust, drop trust. 

With honor, love, and friendship, by the way. 

On a certain morning in November, 1880, 
Colonel John Baird Sartoris came into his dining- 
room as usual to breakfast. He made sufficient 
ceremony of the meal to give to its purpose the 
best room in his old-fashioned house in Washing- 
ton Square ; a room bearing a cheerful spirit, and 
marked with individuality. The hues, perhaps, 
were a thought sombre, the furniture substantial 
and of honest material rather than effective or 
graceful, still there was much in their choice and 
arrangement for a sensible man to praise, and 
little for an artist to condemn. A coal-fire stared 
with red unwinking eye from the grate, while its 
reflection danced glistening on the sides of cups 
and bowls as solid in weight and cumbrous in size 
as the mahogany sideboard on which they stood. 
Over the mantle hung the only object likely to 
1* 5 


6 


The Black Lamb 


retain the roving eye, — a charcoal sketch with a 
famous name scrawled in the corner, — the half-long 
figure of a young man leaning up against a win- 
dow. The face, even in so rough a drawing, had 
certain elements of unusualness that lifted it above 
the commonplace and made it hard to forget. 
‘Twas a countenance of extreme distinction, a cast 
of feature that meant many things, and all of them 
interesting. Long, lean, aquiline, one could read 
the attributes easier than the lines. Self-centred, 
clever, a little poetic, a little dreamy, more than a 
little dare-devil, — nine out of ten among the colo- 
nel’s guests found that particular face fit at once to the 
likeness of some acquaintance in fiction, some sali- 
ent character, Mr. Isaacs, Dupin, Zanoni, Sherlock, 
Holmes, Monte-Cristo, — student or adventurer as 
that quality predominated in the gazer. This was the 
more natural in view of the owner of the sketch, — 
a man whose very modern, practical personality 
served in sort to disconnect him with anything so 
aesthetic as the cynical-eyed countenance over his 
mantle-shelf. 

Colonel Sartoris was an admirable specimen of 
American, strong in body and soul, active in mind 
and pursuits, an anomaly in that his colonelcy was 
a well-merited fact, and perhaps for that very reason 
often preferring to call himself Mr. The title and 
his personal safety were the only things which he 
had brought with him from the Civil War, if we 


The Black Lamb 


7 


except the one prejudice of his life, against Southern- 
ers and the South. In all other matters he was 
exceptionably temperate, in that alone fiercely un- 
reasonable. At the time of this chronicle Colonel 
Sartoris was a widower, with comfortable means 
and few cares, living in New York with his sister, 
and superintending the education of his only child, 
a boy of ten. 

TlT.e colonel came into his dining-room, said good- 
morning to his sister, and seized the newspaper, as 
if the delay of five minutes in its perusal would 
have been his unutterable ruin. Few men are 
agreeable before breakfast, — Mrs. Copperthwaite, 
the colonel’s sister, knew the order of the meal, and 
was too wise to offer any observations. Newspaper, 
breakfast, mail, cigar ; when the last was fairly alight 
she knew that she might safely venture on conver- 
sation. But on this particular morning she did not 
have to wait so long, for the first letter that the 
colonel opened (newspaper and breakfast had passed 
in respectful silence), broke the day’s events squarely 
open. 

'^Jove, Sue!” he ejaculated, pushing his chair 
from the table and spreading the letter open beside 
his plate. Who do you think this is from ? Dick 
Conway’s widow! You remember that Creole 
girl poor Dick married and took to India with 
him?” 

“ Rather a handsome woman, I think,” observed 


8 


The Black Lamb 


Mrs. Copperthwaite. What is she writing to you 
about from India ?” 

''From the Brevoort House, you mean. She is 
over here with the boy. He must be eleven years 
old now. I remember saying to Laura when he 
was born/' the colonel pursued, his eyes becoming 
retrospective, " that I wouldn’t be in that lad's shoes 
for a thousand dollars.” 

"Why? Because you didn't happen to like his 
mother ?'' said his sister, in astonishment. 

"Why? Do you remember what Dick was?” 
waving his hand toward the sketch over the mantle- 
shelf. " Was there ever a dear, dare-devil bundle 
of the devil's impossibilities like Dick ? Shall I ever 
forget him, — a mystic, a dreamer, a man dipped in 
Orientalism, soaked in philosophy, — as full of super- 
stition as an egg is full of meat. And he goes and 
marries a Creole , — a girl from New Orleans, one of 
those indolent, frivolous, empty-headed — well, I 
leave it to your common sense, Susan, if their boy 
is not bound to be a specimen !” The colonel's 
voice was warm with interest ; his sister, however, 
was not kindled. 

"Ido not think it should follow. His father may 
have been all that, yet he was undeniably a gentle- 
man. But you haven't told me what is in the 
letter.” 

" Oh, she only asks me to call on her this morn- 
ing on business,” replied the colonel, tossing the 


The Black Lamb 


9 

letter across the table, and a lot of sentimentalism 
about poor Dick's best friend." 

Colonel Sartoris wandered over to the mantle- 
piece, where he lit his cigar, and stood puffing it, 
contemplating the picture of his friend. "‘You 
don't remember Dick, do you, Susan ?" he asked, 
without turning his head. 

“ Not very well. I only saw him once when you 
brought him 'down with you from Yale," replied 
Mrs. Copperthwaite. “He struck me then as rather 
a fascinating sort of man, although certainly not 
from any effort of his own." 

The colonel chuckled. “ Hardly," he commented. 
“ Indifferent, sensitive, adventurous, cynical, with 
a morbid love for horrors and one of the most 
speculative intellects 1 ever met, — that was Dick. 
Ah I he was a strange fellow ; he wasn't built for 
this age nor for this life." The colonel puffed at his 
cigar and contemplated his picture. “He was an 
only son and a spoilt one; that may have had 
something to do with it. But he was a scholar, a 
thinker, the only man in his class to take Sanscrit. 
Buddhism was new in those days ; we weren't so 
advanced as we are now. Conway created a sen- 
sation by his views. When he married he went to 
India to live, to pursue his studies at the fountain- 
head, and it was time, for Hanover, Massachusetts, 
was too hot to hold him ; the good people were not 
accustomed to have their family spectres taken seri- 


10 


The Black Lamb 


ously, nor to having the old Puritans raised by astro- 
logical spells and black magic. They didn’t under- 
stand spiritualism and voodooism and alchemy and 
the occult sciences.” 

Mrs. Copperthwaite rose and came over to her 
brother’s side, resting her elbow on the mantle- 
piece. ''1 should think not!” she declared, em- 
phatically. 

Then he tried all sorts of experiments on him- 
self with opium and haschisch ; and he wandered 
over Hungary one summer with. a band of gyp- 
sies ” 

Mercy!” cried she, '"what an agreeable pros- 
pect for his wife !” 

" Very,” agreed the colonel. " It left her perfect 
liberty to flirt with other men, and that was all she 
wanted. But nine years of it killed him, and 1 only 
wonder that it didn’t kill him sooner, the climate 
and the life.” 

" He was always fond of you,” said Mrs. Cop- 
perthwaite. 

" He was always fond of me, and yet we never 
agreed on a single point. Funny ! the oddest of 
men get on best with their commonplace friends, 
and Dick was always a good fellow.” 

"A bad fellow always is,” said his sister, 
dryly. 

There was a sound like a faint peal of thunder 
and a clap, followed by a second, louder peal of 


The Black Lamb 


thunder, and a clap. That was Jack coming down- 
stairs. 

Morning, Aunt Sue !” he cried, rushing in ; 

do you know where’s my ’rithmetic? Oh, good- 
morning, father !” 

He stood, cap in hand, every nerve in his body 
twitching with impatience. "'Run along, boy!” 
said his father, kindly, " or you will be late for 
school.” There was a third peal of thunder on 
the staircase, and a bang as the front door shut 
after the boy. Then the house, as it were, shook 
itself, and relapsed into quiet, but the colonel’s 
train of thought had been derailed, and he turned 
away from the mantle-piece. 

"I suppose I had better go and see Mrs. Con- 
way,” he said, rather gloomily ; " she said to come 
before twelve. Now, what do you think she wants 
me for ?” 

"Business probably,” his sister replied, or, 
from your description of her, she may be yielding 
to her fondness for masculine society.” 

"If it is that” Colonel Sartoris answered with 
emphasis, "'she is making a mistake. It will be 
another Civil War !” 

" I hope the South will not win,” said Mrs. Cop- 
perthwaite, laughing. ‘"I’m not particularly anx- 
ious for any reconstruction of this household.” 

"" You needn’t be afraid,” said her brother, depart- 
ing I know the lady, and she knows me, I fancy.” 


12 


The Black Lamb 


Lest our readers should form any mistaken idea 
of Colonel Sartoris from this somewhat vainglorious 
speech, it may be well to take a more particular 
glance at him. He was a man verging on fifty, 
remarkable for nothing in his appearance save a 
gentlemanly bearing, and with features disclosing 
the qualities of firmness, cheerfulness, and judg- 
ment. He was a man of the world — not only a 
man of his individual world — in the better sense 
of this misapplied term. He had loved, and mar- 
ried for love, and his sister need have felt no fear 
were Mrs. Conway twice as fascinating as she was. 
The colonel trod life very steadily, sheltered from 
emotional follies by what is aptly called ** the um- 
brella of cynicism yet to do him justice, he never 
raised that shelter for less than a downpour. More- 
over (as he himself said), when a man has been 
through war and a hospital, experiences that flutter 
less regular pulses leave his undisturbed. 

His thoughts, as he went his way, fell into the 
by-paths of the past; and the face of his dead 
friend — that young-old, jaded face — stared him 
from every street-corner. Numberless character- 
istics till now buried and forgotten, incidents he 
had not dwelt upon for years, came crowding and 
marching into his mind, each blowing the trumpet 
of remembrance. Dick Conway, the dreamer, the 
theosophist, the man of occult superstitions ; his 
friend Dick, the poet, the self-allotted adventurer, 


The Black Lamb 


3 


— he reconstructed the obliterated personality until 
it walked beside him as vivid as in life. Had Dick 
in person come to greet him, as he stepped into 
Mrs. Conway's parlor at the Brevoort, he would 
scarcely have been surprised. 

The room into which he was shown bore every 
mark of the confusion of arrival. Large trunks 
stood against the wall, from these an Indian Ayah 
in unfamiliar costume was lifting piles of woman's 
gear and carrying them into an adjoining room. 
Hardly a chair was unoccupied, a state of affairs for 
which Mrs. Conway apologized as she hastened to 
greet her visitor. The colonel observed her studi- 
ously. She was dark, handsome ; quite as hand- 
some as when he had seen her twelve years before, 
— with aflame in the pupils of her velvet-black eyes, 
and the same charming smile on her too-full red lips. 
She had preserved her poise and grace, and if Indian 
life had rubbed a little of the bloom from her cheek, 
it was far less than a Northern-bred woman would 
have lost in the same duration of years. Yes, she 
was still remarkably handsome, and the colonel 
dwelt on the thought with a touch of envy, as he 
recalled his own progress. Her dress was black, 
but covered with jet ornaments that swung and 
glittered, and somewhat offended his taste, which 
recoiled likewise at the blazing gems at her throat 
and on her soft, brown hands. 

This is very good of you ! how kind you are 
2 


The Black Lamb 


14 

she cried, holding both hands out to him with an 
unstudied, radiant smile. I cannot tell you how 
obliged I am ! Noel, come here, and speak to 
Colonel Sartoris \ ” 

A thin boy of eleven, who had been curled up 
on a rug in front of the fire, rose at these words, 
and came forward, not shyly, yet with a certain 
grave hesitancy. Colonel Sartoris put forth a hand 
to draw the boy near, when, to his astonishment, 
the child salaamed, and then folded his arms as 
one that waited. 

Hullo!” said the colonel, staring, ''whafs 
that for?” Mrs. Conway laughed, as she under- 
went in her turn the contemplation of her visitor. 
"" The boy has run at large in the bazaars,” she ex- 
plained ; he really is a perfect little Hindu. If s on 
his account chiefly that I wished to see you, — I am 
so anxious for Noel to learn the ways of civilization.” 

Oh, thaf s it, is it ?” said the colonel. ‘ " Come 
here, boy, and let us have a look at you.” 

He drew the child to his knee, and turned up 
the small face to his. Undoubtedly he resembled 
his father, with those curious, light eyes in a dark 
face, and those high-arched, un-English eyebrows. 

He is like Dick,” said the colonel to the mother, 
as he studied the visage tenderly, as if he would 
fain find a more marked likeness to his dead friend. 

But what did you say about the bazaars ? I don’t 
understand.” 


The Black Lamb 


5 


My poor husband had so many singular ideas/' 
said Mrs. Conway, with a sort of protest. "'He 
believed in what he called the Indian type, — that we 
all reverted to it, — that Western ideas were exotic, 
and at bottom it is only the old Aryan race after all. 
So he experimented on Noel. He wouldn’t have 
any English servants, — he insisted on the child's 
being brought up entirely by natives. I needn’t 
tell you that I utterly disapproved.” 

"Ah,” commented the listener, "yes; that 
sounds like Dick. And then ?” 

"Where we lived — at Raithapoor — it was only a 
station you see, only a few English families ; but 
there is quite a famous Buddhist temple there, and 
Dick would have Noel go. Dreadful, I thought it, 
— so unsettling for the child !” 

" Bless me !” cried the colonel. " Buddhist 
temple indeed ! What a pernicious education !” 

" Then when Dick died,” Mrs, Conway con- 
tinued, " it was so hard to change. English ser- 
vants in India are rare and very expensive. I was 
forced to keep ours, who were devoted to Noel, 
because I knew I could trust him with them 
when I was away,” 

This sentence was English, yet it bore the need 
of a translator. Briefly, it meant that the bearer 
and Ayah had stood to little Noel in the stead of a 
mother, nurse, and tutor for full two years since 
his father’s death, and that he had not been ten 


1 6 The Black Lamb 

hours of that time in his mother’s company. The 
colonel, however, held the key to Mrs. Conway’s 
language, and filled in the blanks with guesswork. 
He glanced at the child with sudden, curious in- 
quiry ; but the boy stood while his mother was 
speaking, his eyes fixed on her face in a devotion 
that stirred the watcher to the vitals. 

Run away, Noel,” said his mother, waving 
him aside; ''stay quietly in the next room with 
Ayah till I call you ” 

" A very well-grown child,” the visitor said, 
politely, as the door closed on the little figure. 
"You had a pleasant voyage?” 

" Oh, very fair. I left India last April, you 
know. I had a great many visits to pay, and 
spent some time in London for the season. Noel 
and Ayah followed me in September.” 

"Ah, I see. Do you intend to make a long 
stay in New York, Mrs. Conway?” The colonel 
confessed a little curiosity about his hostess’s 
plans. 

"That depends. Really, that has to do with 
our chat,” she replied. "1 am very desirous of 
getting a good school for Noel, and have him 
brought up among his father’s countrymen. His 
circumstances, poor child! have been so unfor- 
tunate ! You see for yourself that he is quite 
impossible.” 

The visitor had not seen it, nor was he over- 


The Black Lamb 


7 


whelmed by a sense of conviction. There is 
something in the eyes and voice of a true mother 
that carries potency whoever she may be that 
speaks. One of the few mental pictures Colonel 
Sartoris carried about with him was that look in 
his dead wife's eyes as she bent over her child. He 
watched for this signal as the sailor watches for 
the guiding light, but when their talk proceeded 
and he never caught a glimpse of it, he hardened 
his heart. 

1 fancied you might be able to help me in my 
search," she continued, as he preserved silence. 

Your little boy must be nearly Noel’s age ; does 
he go to school ?" 

No. To a class of lads under a very excellent 
tutor," the colonel replied^. 1 dislike boarding- 
schools for boys so young. College takes them 
away soon enough." 

Yes — of course — you are right, a tutor is 
better," agreed the lady. She felt rather pleased 
with her new role of occupied mother discussing 
education. It was a picture that she fancied, and 
she was always contemplating herself from a dis- 
tance. 

"Ms it your plan to settle in New York for the 
present?" inquired the colonel. He was very 
suave and properly interested, but the question 
caused his hostess an unaccountable embarrass- 
ment. 

d 2* 


i8 


The Black Lamb 


'' No. That is — not exactly. The fact is 

She paused, hesitated, blushed a little, and looked 
extremely confused and charming. It was most 
ungallant of the colonel to offer her so little assist- 
ance. The truth is, Colonel Sartoris,’’ she began, 
am in great trouble and perplexity, — I hardly 
know which way to turn. Mr. Conway” — her voice 
sank religiously at the name — ‘"Mr. Conway has 
left me very scantily provided for.” 

"Mndeed!” he said; '"you surprise me. Dick 
had ample means when I knew him.” 

" He had ; but you must remember what a 
wretched man of business my poor husband was.” 
The colonel at this turn of the road began to 
fidget ; he scented monetary difficulties, and men- 
tally braced himself. He invested recklessly,” 
pursued Richard Conway’s wife, in her tone of 
smooth confidence. " He neglected his interests, 
and left his affairs to subordinates, — and of course 
they were mismanaged. At his death, I found 
myself considerably straitened. Noel has the fag 
end of the estate, — about twelve hundred dollars a 
year.” 

" Not a fortune, certainly,” commented the 
hearer, who did not like to ask the exact income to 
which the lady had been reduced. 

" When I was in England last spring,” she went 
on, "1 was very gay, and met a great many society 
people. I spent a week with Mrs. Granville Mer- 


The Black Lamb 


*9 

chant at her house in Carlton House Terrace. It 
was there I met Sir Robert LeBreton.'" 

Although the colonel divined what was coming, 
he tingled with amusement at the jerk of pride and 
delight with which she gave forth the name. The 
r’s rolled under her tongue like a choice, delicious 
morsel. 

''Sir Robert is a widower, — perhaps you can 
guess the rest ?” cried she, half laughing. 

"Perhaps I may,'" said the colonel. "Sir 
Robert could not help himself?” 

" We became engaged toward the end of my 
visit,” she proceeded. " It is a very fine establish- 
ment, a beautiful old place in Surrey ” 

She glanced at the colonel, who felt called upon 
to offer the usual congratulations. 

" A very great change, Mrs. Conway,” he con- 
cluded, " and such a fine prospect for the 
boy.” 

She fidgeted in her chair, while a spot of red 
flashed into her cheeks and fled again. Some ink- 
ling of truth to come may have vibrated through 
the colonel’s mind, for as he surveyed her his lips 
tightened under his gray moustache. 

<^7hat — that is the question — it is about Noel,” 
she began, but her composure left her clutching 
wildly at the skirts of calm. " I— I haven’t told 
Sir Robert — he doesn’t know about Noel !” she 
broke out. There was a significant pause, for the 


20 


The Black Lamb 


colonel, although not greatly surprised, thought it 
wise to appear so. 

What !” he cried, very sternly, you have not 
told your future husband that you have a child ?” 
His voice sounded back from the walls of the room 
like a trumpet-peal. 

You — you don’t understand,” she interposed, 
hurriedly and scared. I don’t mean that I con- 
cealed anything, but 1 was alone in the house ; none 
of the people there had known my husband. Of 
course they knew I was a widow, but, curiously 
enough, they hadn’t heard about Noel, and 1 didn’t 
mention him ; he was so far off, you know, 
and ” 

'"Then it is all very simple,” put in the colonel : 
" you can write to Sir Robert and tell him at once.” 

She peered anxiously into his face, but finding no 
alternative there, to his horror took refuge in tears. 

" 1 — I can’t do that now — you don’t understand,” 
she sobbed. " Sir Robert isn’t a rich man ; he has 
two sons of his own to provide for. The — the Le- 
Bretons are not millionaires. If he heard I had a 
boy he might ” 

"Might get out of it, you mean?” the colonel 
interjected, brutally. "Well, if he is such a man, 
wouldn’t it be better to let him go ?’" 

"You are very, very unkind,” wept Mrs. Con- 
way. "Tm tired of being poor. If you knew 
what it was to be poked off in India without any 


The Black Lamb 


21 


society or culture, — nothing but natives and chil- 
dren 1 Dick should have thought/' she moaned ; 

now his carelessness parts me from my child." 

The colonel pushed away his chair and stared at 
her. ""Bless me/' he said to himself, ""if she 
isn't blaming Dick !" He gave her a moment or 
two, and then began to argue the subject as mod- 
erately as he was able. Possibly he was too mod- 
erate ; in any case, he soon saw that plain reason 
was as ineffectual as sentiment. He pointed out the 
uselessness of concealment on so mortal a circum- 
stance; he stated over and over again that if the 
English baronet was a man the news would have no 
effect on his affection ; that if it had, surely marriage 
with such a character was a detestable contract. His 
eloquence and logic were alike in vain. Mrs. Con- 
way chose to regard herself in the light of an ill- 
used person, torn by cruel fate from an only child. 
So complete was her deflection of the truth that she 
imagined her procedure to partake of the nature of 
martyrdom, a dumb heroism that suffers and says 
naught. She declared with admirable constancy 
that she dared not so offend her husband’s memory 
as to raise his child in England among Englishmen ; 
and she solemnly asserted her horror at the thought 
of such a future for him. The colonel at length, 
driven to the extreme of his patience, dropped the 
tone of argument and adopted that of indifference. 

""As I understand you, then," he said, with 


22 


The Black Lamb 


ironic politeness, "'you intend to continue this de- 
ception and give up your boy ? May I ask how you 
propose to set about it 

Mrs. Conway, after a few sniffs, put aside her 
handkerchief. I thought if I could put Noel into 
a good school,"’ she said, briskly, '^he might go 
from there to college, and be quite happy. I have 
no acquaintances in the North to keep track of me 
when I go back to England. With the ocean be- 
tween us and our names different, there would be 
no need of any further change.” 

Oh,” said the colonel, dryly, 1 see.” 

"" If any of my husband’s relatives are alive they 
might see to Noel. It could all be so easily arranged. 
My boy would never know how his mother loved 
him, how her secret prayers followed his career.” 

Colonel Sartoris rose and walked to the window. 
Disgust rang so loud within him that very prox- 
imity to the lady was unpleasant. 

Dick has no relatives in the East at present,” he 
said, after a pause. ""An aunt and some cousins 
of his live in San Francisco, I believe. You could 
hardly apply to them. As you say so truly, they 
would hardly understand. I don’t disguise from 
you, Mrs. Conway, that I think you’re — you’re 
making a mistake ; but I would rather look after 
Dick’s boy myself than leave him to strangers. He 
could go to school and college with my Jack, and 
spend his holidays with us.” 


The Black Lamb 23 

He spoke in a peculiarly deliberate, monotonous 
voice, without a trace of feeling. The whole inci- 
dent struck him as monstrously unnatural and 
wicked ; he was no Puritan, but few men can for- 
give a woman for a lack of maternal sentiment, 
and the colonel, charged with holy memories, least 
of all. 

''Oh, how good ! how kind 1 how shall I thank 
you Y’ she cried, rising in a pretty rapture of grati- 
tude. "You set my mind perfectly at ease, and 
Dick could have wished for nothing better I But 
perhaps Mrs. Sartoris 

" No,"' said the colonel, gently ; " my boy is also 
motherless.'’ 

He need have wasted no such sarcasm. The 
woman resembled a down-cushion against which 
steel was blunted ; her eyes and his looked upon 
different worlds, and attached separate shades of 
meaning to the English language. What he called 
internally " a heartless desertion,” she described as 
a "duty to his father’s memory and his father’s 
country that compels me, at whatever cost, to edu- 
cate my child in America.” The phrase was noble, 
and filled her with a glow of sacrifice. 

"We will make the necessary arrangements 
later,” said the colonel, making a pretence to glance 
upon his watch. "I have outstayed my time as it 
is. Good-by, Mrs. Conway ; I will call again, and 
we will go more fully into this.” 


24 


The Black Lamb 


The lady would have thanked him with profu- 
sion, but he cut her short, bowed formally, just 
touched her outstretched hand, and walked rapidly 
from the room. 

I dared not stay another minute,'' he declared, 
recounting the interview to his sister, or I should 
have forgotten that I was a gentleman ! But we'll 
look after the lad, Sue, you and I ; and if that woman 
keeps out of his life he may turn out happier than 
his father, — who knows?" 


CHAPTER 1. 


These are our full years, full of sounds and sights, 
Of loves and junketings, of feasts and fights ; 

Youth’s caldron kept a-boiling at white heat. 
Youth’s candle kept a-burning days and nights. 


A BRIEF summary only is necessary of those four- 
teen years from the day when little Noel, weeping 
bitterly, was set down at Colonel Sartoris’s door, 
to the day when he makes his second appearance 
on the stage of this history. 

The two children, so unlike in temperament and 
so opposite in education, lost no time in becoming 
fast friends. When Jack had dried Noel's tears by 
the exhibition of his mechanical engine, and the 
boy, although still silent and shy, seemed to feel 
more at his ease, the colonel took him on his knee 
and strove to draw from him some details of the 
parting with his mother. At the word Noel very 
nearly began to sob again, but restrained himself 
by an unchildish effort of self-control. All the 
’colonel could gather was that Mamma had cried 
very loud, and told him to be a good boy," and 
that Ayah had cried too, and kissed his hand very 
many times when she gave him a little charm to 

B 3 25 


26 


The Black Lamb 


wear ; and was mamma going to stay away very 
long Y’ 

Mrs. Copperthwaite, who was leaning over her 
brother s chair, choked at this, and carried the boy 
off to bed, where beside Jack’s ruddy little visage 
his own thin, swart one looked more Oriental 
than ever. Three months later. Colonel Sartoris 
saw announced in the newspaper the marriage in 
London of Adele Bourgereau Conway to Sir Robert 
LeBreton. He burned all the papers in the house 
bearing the same announcement, and that evening 
he took Noel into the library, and told him gently 
that his beautiful mamma was dead, and that she 
would never come to see him any more. The 
course was one which he had decided upon after 
much thought, as sufficiently developing Mrs. Con- 
way’s idea and not running counter to his own. 
Noel opened his great gray eyes, wide and puzzled, 
and said a few words in an unknown language. 

''What is it, Noel?” asked the colonel, ten- 
derly. 

"That? Oh, 1 forgot, you do not understand,” 
said Noel, drawing away. " Will they take her to 
the ghat to be buried, like in my country ?” 

" You will not see her again,” said the colonel, 
pitifully and very sad ; " she has gone to be an angel 
in heaven.” 

Noel did not seem to understand ; he broke into 
sobs and murmured Hindustani, until once again 


f 


The Black Lamb 27 

the mechanical engine came into request as com- 
forter. 

The boys studied, fought, and were punished 
together. They were both uncommonly quick, 
and prepared to take their college examinations at 
the earliest limit of the required age. Six months 
before the date of their entrance, the colonel 
unfortunately went to an intercollegiate foot-ball 
match. He came home raging, and told Jack that 
very night that he preferred to send him to Heidel- 
berg, '"where,” said the colonel, swelling, "you 
can fight, if you must, with rapiers, like gentle- 
men, and not mash one another's faces open for 
money, and to give twenty thousand people an 
excuse to get drunk !” 

So the following spring carried the two lads to 
the new experience of a German university. The 
choice, admirable from many points of view, was 
in one respect unfortunate. The pair were clever, 
whimsical, and of marked precocity of mind. 
They had been much alone, and had early devel- 
oped an unsociable tendency. Reading and undue 
shyness made them, if intellectually superior, an 
unusually self-sufficient pair of youths, who sought 
no company and found little interest in the sports 
of their age. "Savages, young savages, with an 
ounce of the book- worm thrown in !” the colonel 
described them. His own youth had been too 
similar for him to measure the possible disadvan- 


28 


The Black Lamb 


tage to his son of a fundamental difference with 
his class. 

Letters travelled back and forth during four 
years, letters of study and lectures, letters also of 
duels and drinking-bouts. ''Rapiers and beer are 
healthier than foot-ball and whiskey !” cried the 
colonel at these effusions. Even when Noel had 
his head laid open by a fellow-student from the ear 
to the crown, the colonel was no whit dismayed. 
" Fight well,’' he wrote ; " when you hit a man, 
knock him down. These long-haired, spindled- 
legged collegians 1 see about town are no example 
of Americans for you, my boy !” To the same 
letter was added the following postscript: "You 
seem to have a fine mediaeval taste for adventure, 
and to be draining the literature of three languages. 
What does Noel read ?” 

"Con reads everything he can lay his hands 
on,” Jack wrote in reply. " He’s an awfully clever 
chap, and the professors are proud of him. But 
he’s a perfect savage, shy as a deer, won’t look at 
a woman, although there are some pretty ones 
here. At present he’s deep in theosophy, black 
magic, and all the rest of it. One of the Herr 
Professors is quite an authority, and Con has 
turned disciple. 1 don’t quite make it out myself, 
but it’s very interesting. Con is making investi- 
gations into spiritualism, and Madame Blavatsky, 
so we’re very mystic all round just at present.” 


i 


The Black Lamb 


29 


1 

le colonel received this epistle in his dining-room, 
nd as he finished it, glanced hastily up into 
Richard Conway’s lean, dark face over his mantle- 
shelf. Ah, Dick, Dick !” he thought, what 
have you left this boy of yours?” 

At the end of four years. Colonel Sartoris stood 
on the wharf to welcome home his sons. He was 
alone, for his sister had died a year before, and he 
was beginning to feel his loneliness. When he 
saw the two tall figures towering above the crowd, 
he was seized with a pang of delight. '"Two big 
rascals! Two big men!” he kept repeating. 
" By George, Jack, you must be six feet !” 

"Six feet two, father,” said Jack, cheerfully. 

" And Noel?” 

" Six feet three just,” cried that giant, laughing. 

"Good!” ejaculated the colonel, seizing an arm 
of each. "You come with me, and we’ll show 
New York what we can do in men !” 

There was no need, he told them after dinner 
that evening, for either of them to settle down to 
work yet awhile. 

"There will be a place in the firm for each of 
you when the time comes,” he said, contemplating 
what he called his "mastodon pups” with proper 
pride. " In a little while, — a year or two. Every- 
thing is looking booming, and likely to look so for 
a long time. The places will keep ; they’re not 
going run away,” he concluded, with that lack 
3 * 


30 


The Black Lamb 


of foresight which possesses the best of us ii 
of prosperity. 

So after a barren winter in New York spe’U 
a manner altogether unorthodox, and when r '-' 
Avenue and fashion knew them not at all, the 
went West. Hunting and fishing thus alternant 
with meditation in the wilderness ; life was se. 
and judged upon ; there was a lust of adventure 
in these two spirits that was worthy of a more 
heroic age. Then, hard upon a short visit home, 
another trip was planned, and a brace of months 
were spent in Central America and Mexico, where 
these nineteenth-century knights-errant got into 
trouble and out again, and used their revolvers 
without annoying any consul whatever. Wherever 
there was an incident, these two were on the trail 
of it, the natural and supernatural alike found them 
at the heel. 

One such occurrence, in fact, served to confirm 
one of them in the indulgence of certain views. 
It was on a night of heat and tropic downpour. 
The rain fell level, in sheets, like water from a 
spout, straight from a sky so near that it seemed to 
lie heavily upon the tops of the tallest trees. There 
had been thunder and vivid blue lightning, but now 
the lightning flickered like a spent candle on the 
horizon, and the thunder roared with the rain, like 
the roar of distant breakers on a pebbly beach. 

The two boys had been riding all day and were 


The Black Lamb 31 

iff and soaked : the very manes and tails of their 
nules dripped with water. It was after nine o’clock 
and very dark when they came on a hut, backed 
against the steep of a hill, down which they had 
clambered in slippery clay paths among the loose 
stones. At sight of it they stopped, and Jack 
groped for the door of the little building, and 
hammered at it. 

No one replied, and when they had entered, they 
found a deserted adobe hut, leaky and comfortless, 
but in a measure a shelter. They led in the weary 
mules, tethering them in a corner above a heap of 
hay, and spreading the packs on the mud floor. 

Noel carried matches in a waterproof pocket, and 
Jack a bit of tallow candle, so by this light they 
spread out the damp blankets as they were, for 
there was neither firewood nor hearth. Both agreed 
that it was a bad business, but better than out-of- 
doors. When they had eaten and fed their beasts, 
they turned to inspecting the premises for the night. 
The hut contained an inner and an outer chamber, 
equally empty and damp, with a hole in the mud 
wall to serve as door between them. The poor 
wet mules stood in one corner of the outer room, 
while their masters spread out the blankets on the 
hard inner floor. Meanwhile the rain gushed 
steadily down and dripped musically from a dozen 
leaks in the roof, so that when the two had stretched 
out, rolled in their blankets, sleep was not easy. 


32 


The Black Lamb 


Jack was at length dozing off to this accompaniment 
when he felt his companion roll over and grip him 
by the wrist. 

'"jack!” Noel whispered, ^'do you hear? What 
is it?’" Jack sat up and listened, straining his ears. 
The continuous gush of the descending rain made 
a dulling envelope of sound, against which back- 
ground it was hard to pick out minor disturbances. 
Occasionally, one of the mules in the next room 
would paw the mud or shift from foot to foot ; 
and the tink-a-iink of rain-drops falling to the floor 
made a confusion of half-melodious noises. All 
these Jack heard. 

“Do you hear it?" asked Noel again, and his 
voice betrayed an odd excitement. “There must 
be something in the next room." 

Just then the rain lulled, the air cleared of sound 
for an instant, and the tinkling drops slowed in 
their fall. In this momentary limit of silence Jack 
seemed to hear another noise, the distinct clap of a 
light step and the rustle of a woman's dress, that 
crackly, papery sound of silken draperies trailing to 
and fro. Then the downpour drowned it out in a 
renewed flood. 

“ I do hear something," Jack admitted, sinking 
his voice. “ Can any one be in there ? Shall we 
go and see ?" 

He felt an interest, but not strong enough to leave 
his blanket without a cause ; moreover, he knew 


The Black Lamb 


33 


that Noel would prefer to lead the investigations. 
Jack was normally interested in the supernatural, 
but to Noel it was a passion. 

It can't be," Conway replied, in his lowest 
whisper ; we barred the door, and I know there is 
no other. Listen ! there it is again." 

In truth, the sound once more reached their ears, 
and this time much more definitely, the firm tread 
of a foot and the rustle of draperies following 
it. 

Light the candle !" ordered Noel. 

'"What are you going to do, Con?" asked Jack, 
curiously. There was a fresh pause in the rain, 
and this time the odd disturbance was unmistakable. 
Some one was certainly walking about in the next 
room. Jack lit the bit of candle under the shelter 
of his blanket. His hand shook a little, but it was 
from excitement, not fear; he felt a zest of the 
adventure, and was anxious for the climax. 

" Give it to me," Noel said, abruptly, reaching 
for it. " Stay here till I call." He shook himself 
free of coverings and rose noiselessly to his feet, 
shielding the light by his hat, that he had snatched 
from the floor. Jack saw him thus walk stealthily 
toward the door, the candle-flame lying horizontal 
to the draught, and the young man’s tall shadow 
creeping behind him on the wall. 

Jack himself sat still in a stupor of excitement 
and tension. All this time, in the fresh silence 


34 


The Black Lamb 


after the rain, he could hear, as he thought, the light 
step treading to and fro, softly, yet without ap- 
parent effort at quiet. Then the light and the 
light-bearer vanished through the broken door- 
way, leaving the watcher in darkness. 

Who’s that ?” he heard Noel say, sternly. Then 
in quite a different voice, Ah !” 

Jack waited a minute, two minutes ; but nothing 
happened. '"Con!” he called, "^what was it?” 
But Noel made him no answer. 

Then Jack sprang up and was in the next room 
in two bounds. It was quite as they had left it, 
empty, save for the silent walls, and Noel, who 
stood in the centre, still holding the candle with 
the flame rising steady and clear. His eyes were 
fixed, his jaw a little dropped, his whole body 
rigidly still. 

Con !” Jack cried, angrily, shaking him. 
" Whafs the matter, man ?” 

Noel turned toward him slowly. Did you 
see it?” he said, solemnly. knew it would be 
granted to me some day. I have seen her.” 

Seen her ? Seen who ?” cried Jack. 

My mother,” said Noel, quietly. 

Bah ! You’re crazy ! What did you see ?” 

I tell you I saw my mother,” Noel repeated. 

She was permitted to manifest herself to me. She 
was standing there and he pointed. And she 
held a hand out to me as she used. Then she van- 


Th2 Black Lamb 


35 


ished. I tell you I saw her quite plain, — her aura, 
— her spirit. It was a wonderful manifestation.’' 

Nor could all his friend’s reasoning shake him 
from the belief. 

When an account of this reached the colonel, he 
groaned in spirit. 

'' My dear boy,” he wrote, your father had the 
ghost habit before you, — take my advice and check 
it while you have time.” 

To which Noel responded, — 

‘"My dear sir, there is nothing in literature or 
ethics to prove that we may not, at need, open our 
eyes upon the intangible world of spirits,” and the 
reply caused the colonel to groan louder than ever. 

In due time the ghost-seer and hunter returned 
very sun-browned and healthy, and on this occasion, 
finding them set upon yet farther wandering, the 
colonel decided to make one of the party, and the 
three spent an idle Bohemian summer of it in Europe. 
In the autumn he was called to New York upon 
business, and left the two by themselves in London, 
armed with letters which they scorned to produce, 
yet promising themselves a rich harvest of the 
picturesque. 


CHAPTER II. 


Nay, wait and rest, the days are calm and bright, 

What need of weapon where is naught to fight? 

Then suddenly, lance up, and vizard down — 

A cry has rung, unsuccored through the night ! 

The action and reaction of character is a thing 
very difficult of description. How far respect and 
affection will bridge the gulf created by unlike 
temperaments and differing sympathies is a calcu- 
lation that is forced upon each in his turn. Occa- 
sionally one will arrive at true results, and this 
consummation devoutly to be wished had been 
reached between the two with an epoch in whose 
lives we are about to deal. Their days had been 
passed much in each other’s company, yet their 
minds had developed separately, seeking only 
assistance one from another in the simpler phases 
of life. To any one else either one of them would 
have proved a singular companion. Noel Conway 
in particular, with his mystical tendencies, his 
flashes of nervous energy and apathy, his morbid 
fancies, his black moods, his moments of rare and 
grotesque imagination, was stamped by his very 
face and bearing as exotic. Jack Sartoris was, as 
a whole, more normal, his disposition more even, 
36 


The Black Lamb 


37 


the poles of his temperament less inclined from the 
ecliptic. There was a strain of the savage in him, 
a robust spirit of daredeviltry ; he lived in a dif- 
ferent world from the men of his age and caste. 
He read more, and had waded deeper in the tide of 
life. He was, in fact, strongly of that mettle that 
makes your knight-errant — your gentleman-adven- 
turer. Like Noel, the grotesque appealed to him ; 
he would be content to lead the existence of a 
Roderick Usher, and look upon the world through 
a camera-obscura of his own. Up to this time 
these tendencies, unchecked, ran riot in the breasts 
of each ; the vim of youth, the healthy Bohe- 
mianism of nature, had been by happy circum- 
stance plentifully indulged : it was to be seen if 
age and the bitterer draughts of life would alter 
them for better or for worse. 

It may be well imagined that to such a pair 
London held a fascination peculiarly keen, and 
unfelt by the average traveller. They wished to 
probe the heart of the monster, to see,'' Noel 
said, more than a man sees through the glass of 
a hansom cab." They sought out the unusual, 
the complications of existence. They passed days 
in exploration of forgotten localities and forlorn 
courts, of innumerable sects, nations, and person- 
alities. They went to socialist meetings in halls, 
and to anarchist meetings over grocery-shops. 
They ventured on the Thames at night, risking 
4 


The Black Lamb 


38 

their lives at every third stroke, and being pursued 
by a police-boat that chose to regard their move- 
ments as suspicious. This sport possessed all the 
excitement of the chase without the ignoble con- 
sciousness of crime. Called to render an account 
of themselves, they held their peace, escaped in 
the darkness, led the officers a bewildered chase in 
a labyrinth of docks and alleys, and when once in 
safety, sat down and laughed together over the 
boyishness of the proceeding. They got into so 
many street rows that one of the inspectors came 
to know them and to refer to them as them 
American gents as is alius lookin’ out for a lark.” 

They went into gin-shops, and tempting the 
appointed stranger with grog, drew from him his 
history, and thereby wondered at the untiring in- 
vention of life. A day that passed without some 
such interest was a blank day and not to be 
endured. 

One such occurrence will bear rehearsing, from 
its importance in the future. They were returning 
late one night from the Lyceum, and chose to wan- 
der and lose themselves rather than make direct for 
Dover Street. This idea was the more pleasing in 
that there was a fog, one of the first of the season 
and traditionally impenetrable. Electric lights and 
gas-lamps converted it into a yellow curtain, behind 
which, as under cover, carriages rolled and people 
passed to unknown ends. Now and again a figure 


The Black Lamb 


39 


would touch them at the elbow that might, as Jack 
said, be the Prince of Wales himself for all they 
knew to the contrary. They had no notion of 
their whereabouts, having turned off Wellington 
Street at random, but as cabs clattered past less 
often, and the misty figures that touched and van- 
ished grew rarer, they began to fancy that they 
must have drifted into quieter regions, respectable 
and tame. 

"" When you've had enough of this," Jack re- 
marked, turning up his coat-collar, we’ll get hold 
of a policeman and find out where we are.’’ 

am very well content," replied Noel, and 
plunged once more into brown study. 

In the silence of the night, which is never 
wholly silence, the fog seemed to bear oppressive 
weight, like a tangible thing. It seemed to gather 
in folds together, shift onward like some live creat- 
ure, while the distant roar of a street, the clap of 
a sudden footstep, blended into the noises of the 
monster as it coiled above the town. Just at the 
moment when Jack’s ear, caught by this fency, was 
hearkening to the murmur of an unseen thorough- 
fare, another sound right at his elbow cut the air 
all around him like the whistle of a whip-lash. 
It was a young, shrill voice calling, Help, help !" 
and the cry rose in repeated intensity almost to a 
scream. 

They were standing on a corner, and Jack’s eye 


40 


The Black Lamb 


noted the black gulf of an alley, into which he 
plunged. Sounds of a struggle were audible 
before they had gone very far, and ere they knew 
it they tripped over the combatants : four men 
twisted as inextricably as the Laocoon. It was 
hard at first for the rescuers to tell which they 
were to save and which to punish, but Noel stoop- 
ing, saw a gold watch dangling from a dirty fist 
and quivering at every wrench of the chain. He 
drove a smashing blow to the wrist above the 
hand which left it useless, and then diving into the 
group, snatched the thief by his coat-collar, shook 
him free of his prey, and held him apart limp as a 
kitten. 

'"Thafs right,’’ sounded the same shrill voice 
that had been the clarion of the alarm ; now get 
this fellow off of my back, please.” 

The second rascal at this point judged it prudent 
to retire, so that the owner of the shrill voice was 
able to stand up unimpeded. He did so, breathing 
hard. 

‘"Who is it? I can’t see anything,” he cried. 

Thanks, awfully, anyhow. I’m afraid my friend 
here is hurt. Is it the police ?” 

'' No, only a couple of passers-by,” replied Noel. 

We heard you call and jumped for the sound. Is 
there a man down ? If s too dark to see anything 
in this hole.” 

Here,” said the shrill-voiced man, reaching him 


The Black Lamb 


41 


a hand. He knelt as he spoke by the side of a dark 
heap. I say. Merchant, are you hurt ? Can we 
help you 

‘Mn a minute, — my head’s been knocked giddy,’^ 
said a second voice rather unsteadily. Give us a 
hand, will you ?” 

At this stage of events steps were heard, and a 
policeman tumbled over the group gathered about 
the prostrate man. 

'"Here,” Noel, cried to him, thrusting forth his 
prisoner ; take this man in charge, please. That’s 
all you’re wanted for now.” 

Wot’s all this ?” said the officer, turning the eye 
of his lantern full on the group and on the shabby 
wretch shivering in Noel’s grasp. 

Attempted robbery and murder !” answered the 
shrill-voiced speaker, proving under the lantern- 
light to be a thin young man in dress-clothes and 
an Inverness cape. He was helping his friend to 
his feet, an older man similarly dressed, down 
whose cheek a thin stream of blood was run- 
ning. 

It’s all right, policeman,” said this individual, 
with a voice and manner of authority. These 
gentlemen came just in time. My friend and I were 
talking when somebody or something clubbed me 
over the head ” 

And tried to trip me up,” chimed in the younger 
‘‘We skirmished around here in the dark, 
4 * 


man. 


42 


The Black Lamb 


and I couldn’t see the fellow, so I just held on and 
yelled. They dragged us up this alley before we 
knew what had happened. I’m very much obliged 
to you for turning up,” he added, turning to jack, 
who was unscrewing the top of his flask before 
handing it to the injured man. 

We’ll make our statement before the magistrate 
to-morrow,” the first speaker continued ; ''for the 
present just lock this fellow up, will you ? and let 
me have your number.” 

" Very well, sir, cert’nly, sir,” replied the officer, 
as something clinked into his hand. " Bad fog to- 
night, sir. Hard to tell where sounds comes from. 
You,” shaking his prisoner roughly, " you’ll come 
along with me.” 

By this time they had emerged from the alley- 
mouth into the street, the older man protesting that 
he was " all right.” 

" By the way, where are we?” said Noel, as they 
turned away from the policeman. " Will you direct 
us to Dover Street?” 

The officer gave him explicit and verbose direc- 
tions, and marched off into the fog with his charge. 
The quartette halted on the street corner as the 
oppressive silence fell on them once more. 

" Come home with us, won’t you ?” Jack said, 
addressing the younger of the two men. " There’s 
some supper at our lodgings, and you must be 
pretty well knocked up. We’re Americans, — 


The Black Lamb 


43 

my name’s Sartoris, — my friend here is named 
Conway.” 

Delighted to make your acquaintance,” was 
the reply. My name is Musgrave, — Andrew Mus- 
grave, — and this gentleman is Mr. Roderick Mer- 
chant. What do you say, old man ? Do you feel 
like seeing how our gallant rescuers look by lamp- 
light, or would you rather go home ?” 

Mr. Merchant asserted that he would be only too 
glad to prolong the evening, so the four set out for 
Dover Street at a brisk pace. The elder of the two 
strangers was somewhat silent, though perfectly 
courteous ; but the younger was all gayety, and 
chatted on most cordially about every detail of the 
occurrence, — what he had done, and what Mer- 
chant had done, and what they had both said and 
thought. He had a frank, good-humored laugh 
that warmed the hearts of our Americans. 

It was nearly two o’clock when they reached 
home, and climbing the stair, threw open the door 
of their little sitting-room. Oysters were set forth 
on the table with bread and cheese, cold meat, and 
bottles of Bass’s ale. Jack set chairs for the guests 
and opened the bottles, Noel poked the fire and 
turned up the lamp. He was thus able for the first 
time to take stock of his new acquaintances. Mr. 
Andrew Musgrave, of the shrill voice, was a typi- 
cally admirable specimen of a young Englishman. 
He might have been twenty-three or twenty-four. 


44 


The Black Lamb 


He was boyishly fair and handsome, with fine 
sparkling blue eyes, a charming smile under his 
yellow moustache, and a general air of good-breed- 
ing and bonhomie. In every respect he differed 
from his companion. Mr. Merchant might have 
been thirty or thirty-five ; he was a person whose 
age was hard to determine. He was an under- 
sized, clean-shaven man with wooden features and 
straight brows over near-sighted eyes. If he pre- 
sented any impression at all it was in a vague atmos- 
phere of dissipation. The cut across his forehead 
had been bound with a handkerchief, but it left 
an ugly smear of blood. He was pale, well dressed, 
decidedly clever-looking, and owned a pair of re- 
markably strong, dexterous-looking white hands. 

The couple were oddly ill-matched, yet both had 
the appearance of gentlemen. Merchant had an 
agreeable, deep, English voice, Musgrave a thin 
treble, quite as distinctive. 

In their turn the guests beheld two unusually 
athletic-looking fellows, one of whom had a keen, 
regular face, brown eyes, and a light moustache. 
The other, exceeding his comrade in height and 
bulk, was colored in brown and black. His swart 
aquiline face, high forehead, and long jaw, even his 
sleepy gray eyes under very curved black brows, 
had an Eastern contour that was connected in the 
mind with a turban and sandals. 

uncommonly glad it happened to be you 


The Black Lamb 


43 

and not the police that heard me yell/' said Mr. 
Musgrave, helping himself to oysters. 

Merchant, old man, how are you feeling after 
the day of judgment?’' 

Pooh!" said the person addressed, who seemed 
in a measure to resent his companion’s chatter. 
Turning to Jack he inquired, Have you been here 
long ? Have you any friends in London ?’’ 

Jack shook his head. '' We have letters," he 
made answer, ‘^"but we haven’t presented them. 
Fact is, we’re rather solitary chaps, and have been 
seeing London in our own way." 

And a very good way, too," commented the 
listener ; you must let me put you up at a couple 
of clubs." 

''Thank you, but Con and 1 don’t do that sort 
of thing," replied Jack ; " we’d be a failure at it I’m 
afraid, wouldn’t we, Con ?" 

Noel assented. " I don’t think you have ever 
been inside of your own club in New York," he 
said, " and I’m quite sure I haven’t." 

"Then what do you do with yourselves? what 
are you ?" questioned Merchant, in surprise. 

" Oh, I’m a spectator of life, with a turn for a 
row," said Jack, placidly, "and he," nodding 
toward Noel, " is a Buddhist." 

Merchant favored each in turn with a short in- 
quiring stare, and then fell to lighting a cigarette. 
From that moment he plainly lost interest, and his 


46 


The Black Lamb 


manner displayed more than a grain of patronage. 
Mr. Musgrave meanwhile had been conducting in- 
vestigations. 

*'What have you been about?” he asked, with 
indignation, waving his arm at a pile of books. 
''What a disgraceful exhibition! I say, are you 
two literary chaps ? because if you are, out with it, 
and let the worst be known I” 

" Not as bad as that,” said Noel, laughing ; " but 
we read a good deal, and lately we’ve been doing 
London.” 

" London! that?” said Mr. Musgrave, contemptu- 
ously ; " that’s no more London than this,” and he 
blew the froth from his mug, " is ale.” 

" Very true,” asserted Noel, " but it helps to 
mean London to Americans.” 

" Oh, 1 forgot you were Americans,” said Mus- 
grave ; "are you a colonel, and have you a silver- 
mine ?” 

" Neither one nor the other. I come from the 
sea-coast of Bohemia. It’s the only country where 
titles aren’t necessary or silver-mines, — whole ones, 
I mean.” 

" I really should have taken you for Englishmen,” 
broke in Mr. Merchant’s smooth voice. "I sup- 
pose,” he added, as neither answered his observa- 
tion, " you consider that a great compliment?” 

" In a sense only,” replied Jack, a little stiffly. 

" Well, in America they say all English tailors 


The Black Lamb 


47 


are German, and here all French dressmakers are 
Irishwomen,'' said Musgrave, ''so it all comes to 
the same thing in the end. But I like Yankees. I’m 
going to do the States some day — for my health," 
and he laughed with a heartiness hardly justified by 
the remark. He rose as he spoke, and Merchant 
rose also, both repeating their thanks, and promising 
to see the Americans before many days. Jack lit 
them to the door, and the two friends were not too 
weary to pass judgment on the events of the night. 
Of Merchant they were doubtful, his manner some- 
how struck them as displeasing, but both were 
agreed in hoping to see more of his comrade, in 
whom they detected kindred spirits and a certain 
gleam of youthful good-fellowship. 


CHAPTER III. 


Man thinks him safe, and with free hands refills 
His cup : but ere it touch his lip he thrills^ 

Frowns, turning white, for comes a distant tread, 

His Future, thundering among the hills ! 

The Englishmen were as good as their word. 
Mr. Merchant made a formal call, and left a formal 
invitation to supper in his rooms, which curiosity 
only led the recipients to accept. They were also 
too indifferent to decipher his elaborate coat of arms, 
and thereby make a guess at their host’s standing 
in society. 

Andrew Musgrave dropped in once a day for a 
week, always in overflowing spirits, and ready to 
join in any expedition, but less anxious to do the 
honors of his city than any one of his class the 
Americans had ever met. He was a retiring in- 
dividual, this light-hearted, blue-eyed youth, never 
inclined for a crowd, usually unaggressive, and seek- 
ing no company save theirs and Merchant’s. To 
his friend he appeared full of devotion, which was 
a vaguely-puzzling circumstance to the Americans 
when they considered the two men. Nevertheless, 
Andrew’s gayety, his honhomie, his unflagging 
spirits, and careless good humor made him a de- 
48 


The Black Lamb 


49 


lightful comrade, one of a thousand. He owned 
frankly to being poor as a rat" and awfully 
hard-up," talked about his own and Merchant's 
straitened affairs with entire outspokenness ; and 
questioned his new friends very closely about the 
business chances of the West, concerning which 
territory he showed the average ignorance of the 
average untravelled Englishman. Yet with all this 
speech of poverty he seemed never at a loss for 
ready money, never denied himself a trifle, how- 
ever costly, and walked under the most pressing 
difficulties of life as if they had been flower-gar- 
lands. 

Nor was Noel, who had considered young Mus- 
grave with some curiosity, less surprised in Mer- 
chant’s direction. Prompted as he was by the 
other’s constant talk of poverty and economy, he 
looked to see some outward and visible sign of 
these conditions in the rooms to which he and 
Jack were bidden. On the contrary, they showed 
more than the goodly outside of falsehood, and 
were not only the apartments of a man of wealth 
but of one who indulged the very final tastes of 
ease. 

The walls were hung with silken tapestries, the 
lamps glowed in bulbs of soft color like luminous 
flowers. Water-colors by Alma-Tadema hung upon 
the walls, and Whistler etchings were set against 
the margin of the mantle. The china and the 
c d 5 


The Black Lamb 


50 

carvings were genuine and of rarity, the bookcase 
held tomes in illuminated vellum, and a selected 
collection of improprieties bound by Lortie. A 
broad divan followed the curve of the room, on 
which the host and two of his guests lay sprawled 
as the Americans entered. These two were like- 
wise Americans, the host and young Musgrave 
were the only Englishmen present. 

One of the strangers they knew by sight, as well 
as by his works, which turned out, by the way, to 
be a very incorrect guide. Noel had a book on his 
table which bore the man’s name, ''Clement Frey,” 
and he was anxious to observe the author. Had 
Mr. Frey been a third as spiritual as his stories, he 
would have been a personality to unlock the soul, 
but Noel failed to note any kinship between their 
delicate strength and quaint exotic fancy and this 
pale, pudgy man whose eye was as dull as that of 
a fish. The failure probably lay in the observer, 
for when Merchant introduced the two young men 
as countrymen, Mr. Frey’s greeting was scarcely 
enthusiastic. 

"You’re notan American?” he said, with some 
vivacity, to Conway, who had taken a seat upon the 
divan. 

Noel nodded. 

"But your people weren’t?” continued the au- 
thor, in a tone of conviction. 

"1 beg your pardon,” Noel answered ; " my father 


The Black Lamb 


51 

was a Yankee. He came from Hanover, Massa- 
chusetts.” 

‘"Well, I am one myself,” said Frey, '"but I 
begin to wonder what it signifies. Take the head 
of a Ceylonese Brahmin and put it on the torse of 
a thirteenth century Crusader, and then tell me that 
it came from Hanover, Massachusetts I No, you 
must have been changed at birth.” 

"‘I was born and brought up in India,” said 
Noel, a little stiffly, for he did not exactly under- 
stand Mr. Frey's remarks. 

"'That’s interesting,” said the author, medita- 
tively, flipping the ash from his cigar, "very inter- 
esting.” He considered the subject for a moment, 
and then, having apparently reached a decision, 
turned about and fell into talk with the man on the 
other side of him. 

Conversation in this oddly-assorted company was 
not spontaneous. There was plenty to smoke and 
to drink, but the spirit of conviviality was wholly 
absent. The host was fidgety and nervous, his 
cheek had been plastered, and the white patch had 
somehow a sinister effect in that room full of inter- 
cepted lights. Clement Frey chatted in an under- 
tone with the man he had brought with him. Noel 
locked the doors of his spirit and smoked in silence. 
Only Jack and Andrew kept up a jovial, high-pitched 
conversation, full of easy laughter, and filled and re- 
filled each other's glasses. But the men were all shut 


52 


The Black Laws 


to one another, and to Noel the scene gave an effect 
distant and unreal; the beautiful room, with its 
blended hues, and the soft brilliance of its lights, 
the black-and-white figures of the men, and the 
jaded face of Roderick Merchant, whose lips kept 
a smile in which his blank eyes took no part. 

'"I went over the " Antarctic’ to-day. Merchant,"’ 
said Clement Frey, raising his voice. 

"*Oh, did you?” said Merchant, with interest. 

What did you think of her ?” 

She’s a fine boat,” said the author. 

''Fine, indeed; but the 'Hamburger’ is finer,” 
replied Merchant. And at his voice Musgrave 
checked in his laughter and looked at the speaker. 

"I’m not so sure of that,” said Frey, musingly. 
"That new engine in the 'Antarctic’ is going to 
make a big difference in speed, if it works as they 
expect.” 

"If, — but it won’t. I am very much interested 
in the whole affair, as you know, and I have been 
carefully over the two ships. There seems very 
little advantage, but what there is lies on the side 
of our ship, the ' Hamburger.’ ” 

" What are you talking about, the rival liners?” 
broke in Jack, with interest. " Are you connected 
with them, Mr. Merchant?” 

"I’m somewhat interested in Train, Vanbrugh 
& Co.,” replied the host, "and that makes me 
certain of what I am saying. Why, man, the 


The Black Lamb 


33 


* Hamburger’ is finished up-to-date to her smallest 
screw. I know ships, and 1 tell you there's not a 
finer afloat.” 

know that you have had every opportunity of 
judging,” said the writer, *^but I think you are 
mistaken. The ' Antarctic’ has some Yankee im- 
provements that are going to bring her out ahead.” 

"'Are they built on the same model?” jack 
asked. 

"No; the size and general appearance are the 
only likeness between them,” answered Merchant ; 
then addressing Frey, "I am so sure of what I 
say that fm willing to stake on it. I will bet you 
five hundred guineas to one that the " Antarctic' 
won’t get into harbor within an hour of the " Ham- 
burger.’ ” 

" Done ; but you’re awfully rash,” said the au- 
thor, quietly. And the wager was entered in the 
note-books of each. Silence followed, while the 
host, with drawn eyebrows, scrawled in his betting- 
book. If Noel had been doubtful of his pursuits 
before, they were easily determined by the manner 
of his producing the leather record. He shut it up 
finally and slipped it into his vest-pocket with a 
swift glance of apology for a moment’s oblivion and 
rudeness. 

" I hope you haven’t been putting a lot of money 
on the " Hamburger,’ Merchant,” said the man who 
had come in with Frey, breaking the pause. 

5 * 


54 


The Black Lamb 


''Why?’' asked Merchant, who seemed a little 
teased by the query. 

"Because you’ll lose,” was the answer, bluntly. 
"The betting’s been going against her now for a 
week. Kerr, of the Cunard Line, told me that 
there wasn’t any doubt but that she would be 
beaten by those new engines of the 'Antarctic.’ ” 

"1 don’t think so,” said Merchant, confidently, 
spilling a bottle of champagne into his glass, with so 
careless a haste that it foamed upon the table-cloth. 

" You’re a fool,” said Andrew Musgrave, sharply, 
watching him. " You’ll lose on this.” 

The man laughed with a shrug, draining the wine, 
and Andrew turned away frowning. He seemed 
so much disturbed by his friend’s recklessness that 
Jack thought him a fine fellow for his sympathy, 
and liked him better than ever. Noel, who had 
observed the scene through the smoke of his pipe 
with the same sense of distance as if it had been a 
pantomime or a play, came out of his dreams and 
waked up a bit. He had been interested with the 
rest of the world in the two rival steamships wait- 
ing at Southampton for the day of their trial trip, 
and he would have liked to hear more. But no- 
body seemed to care to return to the subject, and 
very soon afterwards the company took its de- 
parture. Taking it all in all, it had been a singu- 
larly unprofitable evening. 

A cablegram lay on their sitting-room table, as 


The Black Lamb 


55 


they entered it, addressed to Jack. He opened it 
and read the code words, too easily translated into 
"‘Your father seriously ill. Come home/' Poor 
Jack dropped the paper and looked into Noel’s 
eyes. The phrase had choked the delight out of 
them as effectually as if it had been a volume, and 
the same fear was written plainly on the face of 
each. 

Come,” said Noel, at last ; when does the 
next steamer sail ?” 

This is Monday, — not till Wednesday,” Jack 
replied; ''wait, — one of those new ships they 
were talking about. Don’t they sail to-morrow 
night ? We might get a state-room on one of those.” 

" We’ll try the first thing in the morning,” said 
Noel; "meanwhile, pack up, old man.” 

"But how — what do you suppose it is?” said 
Jack, miserably. " He was perfectly well at the 
last accounts.” 

"I should have known,” Noel made answer; 
"all day there has been a message for me, and I 
would not hear it. The currents were strong, — I 
felt particularly subjective. And, then, I knocked 
a spider into the lamp last night, you remember, 
Oh, I should have known !” 

By the time next day that Noel had returned 
from the company’s office and secured a state-room 
on the "Hamburger,” Jack had made all ready to 
start by noon. He had found time to present his 


5 ^ 


The Black Lamb 


last draft at Morgan’s, and to leave messages of fare- 
well for Merchant and Andrew Musgrave, neither 
of whom he found at home. 

London, as they roared and rattled out of it, did 
not leave them a regret ; England, as they watched 
it fade and fade on the horizon, was nothing to 
them now. In comparison with what might be to 
come, travels and adventures grew cold and lifeless, 
and what they left behind hardly interesting. 

The decks were comparatively deserted as they 
stood smoking, exchanging few words. A man 
wrapt in a long ulster, with the red tip of his cigar 
glowing from the collar, prowled up and down in 
the half-darkness. He glanced at the two curiously 
now and then, but they were too self-absorbed 
to return his interest. Not till he went and stood 
under the swinging lantern that Jack caught a 
glimpse of his face, and started, crying out Mus- 
grave !” 

"^Aha!” cried Andrew, merrily. "Did I not 
surprise you ? I’ve been meaning all along to try 
Colorado for a change, and as I got the funds I 
needed yesterday it seemed nonsense to wait any 
longer. So here lam.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


Yea, they would mould thy surges on their plan, 

And rend thy bosom with the prows of man. 

But thou, Unconquered, tam’st them by one glimpse 
Of the swol’n forehead of leviathan ! 

There was no question but that Musgrave's un- 
foreseen appearance was a great diversion. No 
man could be long sad in his company ; he bore 
the burden of any sorrow with such willing cheer- 
fulness that it lightened immeasurably. Under 
his influence Jack became happier ; his mind 
turned into hopefuller channels ; he did not look 
forward to the end of his journey with such a 
sinking dread as heretofore. 

It was otherwise with Noel. Since the receipt of 
the message he had fallen into a blackness of the 
spirit from which there was no present recovery. 
He dared not speak to Jack of premonition and pre- 
sentiment, of voices that trilled in his ear in the dusk, 
of sudden palpitations of the mind like the fluctua- 
tions of the waters he beheld. The spirits" are 
thick about me,” said Noel to himself; the un- 
seen world is so near that I can touch it with the 
antennae of my mind.” Forebodings were constant 
with him, and every trifle of existence was magni- 

57 


The Black Lamb 


58 

fied and changed. He fell a-dreaming, as he had 
done once or twice before when under similar 
strain of anxiety of his childhood, picturing the 
brown hill-sides rising to their distant crown of 
snows, the groves of palm and deodar, the brazen 
splendor of the zenith, and the conch-shell of the 
temple blaring into the sunshine. The passengers 
came and went ; Andrew and Jack passed up and 
down, their voices chiming pleasantly together ; 
the ship rose and fell and labored onward, straining 
her sinews ; and Noel stood under the stars, turn- 
ing his dark face up to them, oppressed beyond all 
power of telling. It was as if the sea-sickness that 
forbore to touch his body entered into his mind, 
a mental cowering and discomfort, a mental nausea 
and depression. 

Jack knew him in those moods, and wisely let 
well alone. He was too nearly depressed himself 
to be any aid to a soul so darkened, and he dreaded 
what his friend might intimate in his absent man- 
ner and moody eye. It was a relief to turn to 
Andrew, to hear his anecdote and story, to join 
in his easy laugh at nothing worth the laughter, 
to sun one’s self in the radiance of his buoyant, 
unfailing good humor. 

Meanwhile, others on the ship were anxious, if 
for a different cause. Our friends, wrapt in their 
own concerns, had been little touched by the talk 
on all sides of them. They had forgotten that they 


The Black Lamb 


39 


were racing neck and neck with another great 
hulk that was pounding along somewhere in the 
darkness beyond. A great deal of money had 
been spread over either ship. Each came to the 
top notch of their respective company, — they held 
the championship of the seas between them. 
Upon the decision of this voyage depended a vast 
deal more than the casual on-looker divined ; the 
difference of an hour or two in speed meant the 
difference of thousands of dollars in the spring 
when the tidal wave of travel breaks over Europe 
and floods it to the highest mountain-passes. 

The passengers on the "'Hamburger” caught a 
reflex wave of this excitement, and the crowd that 
gathered near the log was a shade more interested 
than any similar crowd. The officers were confi- 
dent, as they had not yet sighted the "Antarctic,” 
that she had fallen behind. The weather had been 
propitious for November ; winds were boisterous 
and seas heavy ; but the skies contained their 
blue, and the sun rose and fell in undiminished 
magnificence. 

Four days passed. There was speech of shores 
to come in place of shores left behind. Field- 
glasses began to be taken out, and men who had 
remained in the smoking-room like rabbits in a 
burrow came blinking on the deck and glanced 
about them. 

On the morning of the fifth day a light fog 


6o 


The Black Lamb 


blew up ; the seas were uneasy under it, spring- 
ing up and falling back with a sharp emphasis of 
spray, as if they resented the fog-horn’s voice 
bellowing into the mist. A fog is always more or 
less interesting, but when the answering bellow 
of another fog-horn began to sound out of the 
waste, and to sound louder and nearer, and still 
louder and nearer until the thresh and throb of 
the screw came with it, the passengers were con- 
scious of a growing interest. 

The '"Hamburger” slowed down; although it 
was time lost, the captain dared not do otherwise ; 
bells tinkled from every quarter, and officers went 
to and fro with rapid steps. The fog had grown 
thick and white, beads of damp crested on every 
cheek and coat, the wind that drove it had died to 
a whisper. Then some one caught sight of some- 
thing in the whiteness, a mere bulk, shapeless 
and blown upon by fog-wreaths. Noel, leaning 
on the rail, murmured to Jack that it was levia- 
than, stirred from his rest by the challenge of the 
fog-horn ; but the officers knew it to be none 
other than their rival, the " Antarctic,” and a trifle 
nearer than they could have wished. The tide 
ran very strong ; though unpropelled, they were 
conscious of perceptible movement, and that too 
in a dangerous direction. Signals were exchanged, 
horns blown, and bells rung ; the " Antarctic” 
turned to let her rival pass to leeward ; the cap- 


The Black Lamb 


6 


tain of the Hamburger’' rang (as he supposed) to 
reverse engines till she had passed. One breath 
afterwards he realized that there had been a blun- 
der, a misinterpretation of orders, for, instead of 
backing, the Hamburger,” quivering, drove 
ahead at full speed and crashed like a cannon- 
ball into the side of the Antarctic.” The echoes 
of that crash rang out undisputed in a silence of 
utter horror. Then arose a babble of noises, a 
thundering of orders and voices, punctuated by 
screams, shrill and terrifying, and a clangor of 
bells. The captain, his eyes starting from his 
head, plunged like a madman into the hold to 
seek the engineer. The Hamburger” withdrew 
slowly from the side of her rival, and so thick 
was the fog that even at a short distance it was 
not possible to see the extent of the injury. 
There was a confusion of terror and distress 
among the passengers, voices ‘crying, exclaiming, 
advising : a flood of excitement overwhelmed 
them. On deck no time was lost ; the boats were 
lowered without slip or mishap, one came to the 
side, and the first officer hurled himself into it. 
Then the boats put off, and there was a hideous 
interval of waiting, a breathless silence for passen- 
gers and crew. Inside of ten minutes, although 
not one of those waiting estimated the time cor- 
rectly, a boat returned. The officer, his face 
wiped of color and expression, came on deck. 

6 


62 


The Black Lamb 


''Two water-tight partitions and an inner one 
cut through, sir,” he told the captain briefly; 
" she’ll sink in twenty minutes. Our boats are 
bringing the passengers.” As he spoke, the 
second of the boats came alongside, laden with 
white-faced women and children, who were 
landed with creditable rapidity. Then another 
boat followed, and another; the "Hamburger’s” 
crew had not lost time. Each came out of the 
fog, and went back into it, as puppets come out 
from behind a curtain. 

The time of year and the fact that the vessel 
was new and untried were happily the reasons 
why there were no steerage and very few second- 
cabin passengers ; but to the waiting groups on 
the deck of the " Hamburger” there seemed a 
never-ending crowd. Most of the officers and 
crew at last were safe, the sailors were scrambling 
into place for a final trip, when there came a 
sharp crash, a shuddering of the air, a long sigh- 
ing roar that sounded miles away, and then eddies 
and white-caps in the water, and short, angry 
waves that raced out of the fog. 

Andrew, Jack, and Noel stood together on deck, 
and Andrew was the first to speak. 

"Good God !” he cried, shaking from head to heel, 
" she’s gone!” 

Noel saw that his face was white. " Here,” he 
said, kindly, taking him by the arm. "This has 


The Black Lamb 63 

been too much for you, and no wonder. Go and 
get a drink."' 

Half an hour later the '"Hamburger" was pound- 
ing on her course, and her passengers were doing 
their best to make the shipwrecked passengers com- 
fortable. Many gave up their state-rooms to the 
women from the "Antarctic,"" who had been shaken 
by the fright. 

Noel, as he passed through the saloon, heard an 
officer say to a tall young girl, " I will do my best, 

but of course we are dreadfully crowded, and "" 

He interrupted them. " I can sleep anywhere,’" he 
said, in that rather haughty manner that covered an 
intense shyness ; " you can have my cabin, if you 
like ; it’s 37.” 

He did not wait to ask Jack, because he knew 
Jack’s answer beforehand. The young lady, who 
had a pair of very expressive brown eyes in a pale, 
handsome face, said, " Oh, thank you!” And Noel 
bowed formally, as he went on. 

"A woman needs our cabin,"" he said, as Jack 
came up. "I gave it to her, of course."’ 

"Of course,” Jack echoed ; " but oh. Con, isn’t 
this ghastly? Such a hideous piece of carelessness, 
so utterly unnecessary I” 

"Horrible! Whose do they say was the mis- 
take?” 

"They don’t know ; the electricity or something. 
The second engineer was on duty, and drove ahead 


64 


The Black Lamb 


full steam instead of reversing engines. They say 
he’s almost ill/’ 

''He’d better be, — confounded incompetence!” 
cried Noel. " Where’s Andy ?” 

"I don’t know. Not in his cabin, for I’ve just 
been to see. Come and have a cock-tail. Con. I 
feel shaky after all this.” 

They were on their way to the smoking-room 
when they came full against young Musgrave 
coming up the companion-way. His face was still 
pale and his lips tremulous. 

"Where have you been ?” asked Jack, as he joined 
them. 

"Down-stairs, talking to the chief engineer,” 
Andrew answered, lightly, in spite of his pale face. 
"He’s in a dreadful state of mind over the over- 
hauling there’s bound to be when we get into New 
York.” 

He seemed to take the engineer’s trouble to heart 
in his peculiarly sympathetic way ; and, in fact, the 
shock of the accident left its traces on his smiling 
countenance for quite twenty-four hours. But he 
was delighted to find that he had no cause to resign 
his berth, and teased his friends unmercifully on their 
sudden gallantry. 


CHAPTER V. 

You waked me rudely. I had closed mine eyes 
While my regret sobbed out of Paradise, 

Now you have cleft the gates apart, and now. 
Shattered and dust-bestrewn, mine idol lies. 

The Story of the collision and disaster had been 
signalled to all incoming and outgoing vessels, so 
that by the time the Hamburger” made Fire Island 
all New York reverberated with the news. But what 
he might hear of his father was in Jack's mind a 
fact that cloaked the other and left it insignificant. 
He took no notice of the swarm of reporters that 
buzzed about the ship, nor did he raise his eyes to 
see the departure of the culpable engineer, marched 
away by a couple of policemen. He barely took 
time, when they landed, to bid Andrew Musgrave 
good-by and God-speed. Andrew was going on 
to Denver by an early train, and was profuse in 
his farewells. 

The colonel had had a paralytic stroke. That 
much the two boys learned at once from the junior 
member of the firm, who had been sent to meet 
them with a cab. He had been stricken down in 
his office and taken home, where he lay much,” 
6* 65 


66 


The Black Lamb 


said the partner, encouragingly, much better, and 
most anxious for their coming.” Noel asked for 
the exact date of the stroke, and after hearing it 
turned to Jack with one of his electrifying ex- 
pressions. 

‘"You remember,” he said, ''the night we went 
to Roderick Merchant’s ? And all day there were 
voices speaking to me, and I would not listen !” 
His face glowed for one instant with thought like a 
piece of heated metal with color, then relapsed into 
its statuesque immobility. The junior member 
glanced at him curiously before proceeding with 
the recital. 

The doctor was to meet Sartoris on his arrival 
and have a talk with him ; they had a trained nurse, 
and everything was being done for his father’s com- 
fort and recovery. The firm, in one shape or an- 
other, had called every day, and hosts of old friends 
had left their cards. This was, in brief, what Jack 
learned in the drive from the docks to Washington 
Square. 

It is only in story-books that when the near 
and dear are stricken the doctor says, "he will 
die” or "he will live.” In real life they are less 
anxious to commit themselves. No one knows 
the coquetry of Nature better than a physician, 
and no one is less desirous to promise and vow 
in her name. Jack found that every hopeful sign 
was qualified with a parenthetical discouragement. 


The Black Lamb 


6i 

His father was seriously ill (but not, for the 
present, dangerously). There was a chance of 
partial recovery, but the end might be six months 
hence (or to-morrow). The colonel’s vigorous 
constitution was in his favor (but his son must 
bear in mind that he was no longer young). The 
paralysis had certainly been slight, but there were 
indications — in fact, his condition was grave (yet 
men had lived, and for some years, after similar 
attacks). And this satisfactory, quieting informa- 
tion was repeated after another fashion at each 
daily visit. We are doing very fairly ; we are not 
quite so well ; the recovery of speech is a favor- 
able indication, the non-recovery of strength is less 
favorable : but what boots more of this ? Any 
one can supply it from personal experience, — can 
supply as well the helpless sense of impotence, 
the underlying worry, the growing dread, the 
wrenching of the heart, that such experience 
brings with it. These things, however graphi- 
cally portrayed, can in no way touch the reality. 
For the pangs and tortures of love mankind has a 
vast and varied library of description, but for those 
who wait on illness there is no literature. Jack, 
unused to such a tread-mill, went almost wild at 
first, settling as the weeks went on into calm that 
^2LS not rest nor resignation. Noel shared his 
every feeling with his most delicate sympathy, put 
aside his morbid fancies, and in the face of present 


68 


The Black Lamb 


trouble left the closed doors of his mind for a 
space unopened. 

It fell to his lot, and to so shy a man it was 
particularly displeasing, to see callers and satisfy 
inquiries. 1 will not pretend that he acquitted 
himself well ; he was too self-centred to be win- 
ning, and not by any means a man of elaborate 
manner. A certain indelicate curiosity, such as is 
often shown by the sympathetic caller, stiffened 
him at once into ill-concealed indifference ; but 
those who said enough, and not too much ; who 
asked, yet did not press his vague replies ; who 
showed a genuine kindliness of voice and eye, 
were very apt to go away with a very pleasant 
remembrance of the odd, dark face and the young 
unstudied courtesy. 

On one of these occasions the visitors, whose 
card bore the unfamiliar legend Mrs. and Miss 
Axenard,’' turned out to be no other than the 
brown-eyed girl and her mother to whom Noel 
and Jack had resigned their cabin oh the Ham- 
burger.” Noel had quite forgotten the occurrence, 
nor had her face lingered in his memory, when 
the young lady herself recalled it in a few grace- 
ful words of thanks. The same card had accom- 
panied a box of beautiful flowers a few days since, 
and when Mrs. Axenard announced herself as an 
old friend of the colonel’s and her daughter as a 
little girl who had often been sent for to play 


The Black Lamb 


69 

with Jack, he was quite ready to be won. Mrs. 
Axenard’s delicate elderly face struck him as un- 
usually charming ; her gentle tact led him to talk 
more unreservedly than he had yet done. Perhaps 
the unmothered hunger of his eyes, in their swift 
glances from mother to daughter, touched the 
motherly fibres of Mrs. Axenard’s heart, for she 
called him my dear boy,” and begged him to 
call on her for anything and at any time. The 
daughter was naturally a little left out of the con- 
versation, but her manner was in its quieter way 
as sympathetic as her mother’s. She was decidedly 
handsome, with a sweetness and nobility in her 
face that came direct from the elder face beside 
her; she was tall and composed, had a sweet, 
cultivated voice ; was very simply and very fit- 
tingly dressed. This much Noel observed ; he 
was too shy and too indifferent to see more. 

Miss Axenard on her part was more generous of 
interest, and subjected the young man to a girl’s 
swift and microscopic scrutiny. His size and car- 
riage she approved of ; his face in its striking type 
puzzled her ; it was like a mask lit by parti-colored 
fires of expression, now with a smile altogether 
boyish and charming, now with an older and more 
complex intensity of feeling. 

^'He looks East Indian,” she concluded, men- 
tally, '' and I fancy he’s lonely.” 

Perhaps the thought may have struck some 


70 


The Black Lamb 


echo in his own mind, for certainly, after their 
departure, Noel fell into bitter musings, in which 
his dead mother, an exquisite and radiant figure, 
rose in his mind to sadden him with a sense of 
loss. The young man had a sensitive recollection, 
and the memory of his mother was with him a 
species of idolatry. 

The next afternoon Jack was called down-town, 
and Noel took his place in the colonel’s room. It 
was not, of course, the first time of his doing so, 
but on the other occasions the sick man had been 
incapable of anything but a whispered word or 
two. To-day he seemed really better ; his speech, 
though labored and slow, was fairly fluent ; he had 
been raised a little to look out upon the Square, 
powdered with the first snow of the year. 

Noel sat by the window, while the nurse bustled 
about to put things to rights before going for her 
walk. As the door closed on her. Colonel Sartoris 
shifted his hand on the coverlet, and looked over 
to the window. I’m glad you’re here this after- 
noon, my boy,” he said, because I want to have 
a little talk with you.” 

''Won’t it tire you, sir?” said Noel, drawing 
nearer. 

" No it won’t tire me,” replied the colonel, irri- 
tably, "and I’ll stop when it does. I’ve had it on 
my mind, Noel, ever since you were a grown man, 
that I ought to tell you more about your own people. 


The Black Lamb 


71 


Your father, — you’ve often heard me speak of him, 
a brave man and an odd one. You look like him, 
and you’ve got his hatred of civilization. Noel, do 
you remember your mother ?” 

CLuite a little, — yes,” Noel answered dreamily; 
'"just as 1 remember the place we lived — the temple 
and the palms — as if it was a picture. Was she not 
tall and dark, with very soft hands and dark eyes ?” 

Yes, she was all that. By Jove, it seems like 
yesterday when 1 went to see her at the Brevoort, 
and she called you, and you salaamed to me. A 
little thin lad you were then, — ' a regular Hindu,’ 
she called you. It seems like yesterday !” The 
colonel sighed, and moved his head wearily on the 
pillow. 

What did she die of, sir?” asked Noel, simply. 

The colonel almost jumped, — that is, he started, 
and one shaking hand rose feebly while the other 
lay disobedient. 

'"My dear boy,” he said, and his voice sounded 
low and apologetic, "that’s just it. She died, 
Noel, to you, to your life then and now, and, please 
God, in the future. But she is alive at this moment 
— as alive as you are, and I fancy much more alive 
than 1.” 

" Alive !” repeated Noel. He rose involuntarily 
to his feet, and looked down upon the sick man from 
his great height with a pair of expectant eyes. 

" Sit down !” ordered the colonel, pitifully striving 


72 


The Black Lamb 


to motion with that helpless, disobedient arm. 

ril tell you the whole story, and you can judge 
for yourself if I did wrong in telling you that she 
was dead." 

Noel sat down, and the colonel, in his slow 
utterance, recounted to him plainly the scene that 
is contained in the prologue to this history ; his 
first knowledge of Mrs. Conway, and his last. 
When he had made an end, — 

There’s nothing under all this?" cried Noel, 
almost sternly. You’re not deceiving me again. 
Colonel Sartoris? She was all right — my mother?" 

*'Oh she was an honest woman for all I know, 
if you mean that," the colonel replied with hasty 
impatience; "'and your father was your father, 1 
believe, — and this isn’t a dime-novel. Your mother 
wasn’t bad, Noel. She was only thoughtful and 
provident, with a rigid idea of adherence to her 
dead husband’s desiies. That’s what a great many 
people would call it even now." 

The mere remembrance of the woman, although 
dulled by fourteen years, whetted his tongue into a 
scythe once more. There was silence, for the boy 
had dropped his head between his hands. It does 
not fall to the lot of most of us to live until twenty- 
five without the loss of our most cherished illusion 
as it had befallen Noel Conway. And it went hard 
with him, who dwelt in a world of illusions, so 
that the colonel’s heart swelled with pity. 


The Black Lamb 


73 


" Don't take it to heart so, dear lad," he begged 
from the bed. She isn’t worth it. She was only 
a shallow, treacherous fool, doubly a fool because 
there was no need on earth for her to keep silence 
about you. But if she loved you, she loved the 
title, and the diamonds, and the paragraphs in the 
papers more, — and there are plenty of women like 
her, as well as a few unlike." 

'Mt wouldn't matter," said Noel, his voice ring- 
ing sharp with pain, only that 1 always had a 
belief in that kind of love. You know I’m not 
ungrateful, that 1 appreciate all your kindness ; but 
I've always missed my mother — in my memory she 
is so kind and beautiful. It has been one great 
sorrow to me not to be able to have her to work 
for, and think about. So you see there’s a shock in 
this that turns me upside down.” He laughed mis- 
erably and his face hardened. Mother-love I" he 
said, with scathing contempt. What a farce it is, 
— and I had fancied it was different!" 

No," said the sick man, watching him, it isn’t 
all a farce, — although your mother’s was, my poor 
boy, your mother’s was. But the reason 1 told 
you this, Noel, was because 1 watched you and saw 
that you were an honorable man. It was impos- 
sible for Dick Conway’s son to be otherwise, — ^just 
as it was impossible for Dick’s son not to be super- 
stitious and to believe in ghosts. Still, had you 
been otherwise, I might have left you undeceived. 

D 7 


74 


The Black Lamb 


If I had not seen pride in you and a sensitive heart 
for all your ridiculous notions, depend upon it you 
would never have learned this from me/’ 

Perhaps you had better have left me in my 
dream,” said Noel, sadly ; ''but you are right, sir — 
quite right, and I have only to thank you still more. 
But you haven’t told me her — name?” 

" She married Sir Robert LeBreton, of Surrey. 
They get on very well, 1 believe.” 

" She has never sent or written to ask about — 
me?” 

" No !” cried the colonel, energetically. " Not a 
damned word !” 

Noel was speechless. 

"For God’s sake don’t get to pitying her!” the 
colonel added, as he saw the boy’s face twitch. 
"She isn’t worth a tear of your’s or any man’s. 
I knew her affairs ; she wasn’t poor. Your father 
left her enough to live on in a quiet way and bring 
you up like a gentleman, if not fashionably. But 
she was mad for the position, and the name of Lady 
LeBreton. Don’t waste a thought on her, — look 
about you, — get some nice girl to make a home for 
you somewhere, — and never think of this again !” 

" You don’t quite understand,” Noel replied. "I 
am not — not like that, I can’t forget. My mother 
would have taken me as I am, would have under- 
stood, would always have forgiven, — I would have 
loved her to the end because of this. You know 


The Black Lamb 


75 


I’m not like other men. I want to go back to the 
East, where I was born — every bone in me cries 
out for it — and against this hustling West. I don’t 
want what men here want, money and excitement, 
— I don’t like women. I want quiet, and the great 
philosophy 1 began in Germany, — to reach another 
world in my cycle higher than this. Fancy any 
woman — any of these New York women — under- 
standing that !” he laughed a little at the humor of 
■the thought ; then his voice saddened again. But 
if 1 had had my mother 1 could have worked with 
a good conscience, because my existence mattered 
to her.” 

My dear boy I” said the colonel, tenderly, 
don't feel that as long as I’m here ; and after 1 am 
gone,” he went on in a solemn tone that made his 
hearer’s heart stand still, it was so full of conviction, 
as long as Jack is alive, he’ll need you. When he 
doesn’t,” he continued, more cheerfully, "'get you 
gone to your Thibetan monastery if you must, — I 
give you leave.” 

"'Thank you,” said Noel, "I will remember.” 

" You see, you don’t really know the world yet,” 
went on Colonel Sartoris, argumentatively. "I 
fancy when you’ve knocked about a little more in 
America this idea will go naturally. You’ll find 
stanch friends, and good women, and life here will 
grow easier as you are older. You and Jack are 
savages nowadays, you’ll grow more like other men 


The Black Lamb 


76 

in time. There will be compensations, lad, there 
will be compensations.’' 

The nurse tapped warningly on the door, and 
Noel went from the room as she entered. He took 
his hat and went out into the Square. The after- 
noon was cold, a sharp wind flicked the blood into 
his cheek, and braced him like a tonic. But he 
could not forget his mother and his mutilated idol. 
Had Noel been like other men, full of occupation, 
burdened with affairs, normally balanced and con- 
stituted, such a story, while it pained, could not 
long have influenced him. But Noel was not as 
other men ; he was, comparatively speaking, idle ; 
his constitution was abnormal ; he had just that little 
leaven of higher imagination which is often far hap- 
pier for the world at large than for its possessor. He 
was sensitive and nervous as a woman, strong in 
affection, and very full of youthful cynicism. The 
story he had heard filled his heart to overflowing 
with bitterness and rage. The one thing he had 
held to, his very life-preserver of memory, had 
failed him unutterably, and the failure was a shame- 
ful, a dishonorable thing. He had no interest strong 
enough to drive it out, no responsibility or passion to 
absorb or distract him. The thing sank deep down 
through layer after layer to the very floor and founda- 
tion of his mind, and rested there — a lost birthright, 
a robbed inheritance — a difference with the world. 

From that day, too, the vision of the gray temple 


The Black Lamb 


77 


of Raithapoor lay underlining every thought, and 
every action. At times the vision leaped before his 
eyes, and glowed and sparkled, and took life and 
color and shape ; the palms waved, the hot sun beat 
upon the metal ornaments of the worshippers, the 
bronze-shouldered adepts came and went beneath 
the portals. But usually Twas dim and lifeless, far 
away, no part of him, — a childish memory, dear 
and unattainable. 

Whether the conversation had tired the colonel, 
or whether some link of life gave way, on the mor- 
row he was much less well, and on the day after 
still worse. Then a little better, and worse again, 
— the flare and sinking of the lamp ; and one 
morning, at the hour when the soul seems nearer 
home than at any other, his slipped beyond. 

When day fairly came, Noel sent for Mrs. Axen- 
ard, and she, true to her promise, came, and did 
much to help and comfort. Her brown-eyed 
daughter Philippa too came in and out with her, 
and had a warm hand-clasp and kind word for the 
two who seemed at that crisis nothing but two 
lonely boys. Jack's grief was deep and settled ; he 
could bear Noel words on it, but no others, so her 
gentle ministration passed unheeded. Noel, seeing 
her in such a way, grew used to her presence, and 
felt it familiar, even hazarding a word or two in the 
desolation of his heart. But, as a whole, Philippa s 
kindliness was very ill repaid. 

7 * 


CHAPTER VI. 


This is a sunny corner of the earth, 

Where of warm words and welcome is no dearth ; 

And sighs the man who has a tale to tell, 

“Oh for an hour beside your quiet hearth !” 

The Axenards belonged to that small class of 
New Yorkers who are content to seek their society 
among any but the set which monopolizes that 
term. To them display and ostentation were vul- 
gar ; wealth, unless properly bridled, a delicate and 
dangerous steed. Secure in the knowledge that, if 
they liked, any door was open to them, they were 
able to pick and choose, did not scream for recogni- 
tion, and lived quiet, self-respecting lives far from 
Fifth Avenue and fashion. On the other hand, 
they were neither snobbish nor narrow, and Phil- 
ippa Axenard had seen enough of the gay world to 
acquire the poise which is a prerogative of an 
American girl. She had acquired as well a few 
characteristics yet more valuable, a dignified bearing 
for one thing, for another, an intolerance of medi- 
ocrity. Although not accounted rich among the 
wealthy, the Axenards had comfortable means, yet 
had never sunk into well-to-do sloth. As a family, 
they kept their intelligences remarkably well shar- 
78 


V 


The Black Lamb 


79 


pened and keen. Musicians and authors flocked to 
their house, rejoicing that they were not made use 
of and exhibited. Among the most assiduous was 
Clement Frey, who had been heard to say that the 
Axenards were the only placid household in New 
York, and who certainly had every opportunity of 
judging. 

Philippa liked him, and in celebrities Philippa 
was hard to please. She knew him to be full of 
opposites, and so was not surprised that, although 
he loved being lionized, he should return week after 
week to take luncheon with people who treated 
him quite straightforwardly, without pretension. 
He came regularly, poured out his ideas and ex- 
periences with his peculiar facility, and quite forgot 
that he was conferring a favor by his presence. As 
a family they were intelligent, the women at least 
sympathetic, and their unshaken principles on a 
great many subjects did not prevent them from 
keeping up with all literary movements here and in 
Europe. So Clement Frey never had to explain, 
and he hated explanation. He never acknowledged 
a misunderstanding, and he often kept the mind of 
his hearer leaping the chasms of his rapid conclu- 
sions. Argument with Frey was like racing with 
the witch in the fairy tale, who kept changing the 
course now into a quagmire, now to a precipice. 
It was breathless work and inglorious, for Frey was 
never convinced, and his opponent usually, too 


#' 


8o 


The Black Lamb 


confused to be, a state of affairs that frequently led 
to coldness. The Axenards, however, avoided 
argument ; they let him talk and they listened, so 
that so far no chill had ever arisen between them. 
One of Frey’s idiosyncrasies was what he quoted 
''the admirable habit of always being late.” He 
invariably sauntered into a room ten or fifteen min- 
utes after the specified hour, without apology, " for 
apology,” said he, "is one of those mistaken ex- 
planations that I never allow myself to make.” 

The Axenards lunched at half-past one. It was 
quite a quarter to two when he marched into their 
dining-room, his flat, inexpressive face beaming with 
a smile. 

" Don’t get up,” he said, as Mrs. Axenard and 
Philippa rose to meet him, " you know what 1 
am, better never than late. This time I was 
really busy, — not spoiling pens or paper, either. 
Thanks,” as the maid handed him a dish, "and I 
want to tell you all about it.” 

There were never any preliminaries in Frey’s talk, 
he had a perfect horror for what he termed "the 
baggage- wagons of conversation.” 

" You know what a lily of the field I am,” he 
continued without a pause, while Mrs. Axenard 
settled herself to listen, glancing at Philippa with a 
smile. "I toil not, although I do spin yarns. 
Well, to-day I went into Wall Street to see life. It 
was very noisy and realistic, and I didn’t like it at all 


The Black Lamb 


8i 


until I ran across Bobby Jermyn, and he said to me, 
' You are wasting time and gaining no experience, 
come with me/ So I went with Bobby, like the 
Prince in the Arabian Nights, you remember? 
It appears that Bobby is on the Board of Under- 
writers, to which some novelists belong, although 
it isn’t a literary academy. Miss Axenard. And they 
were going to investigate the * HamburgerV Ant- 
arctic’ collision. I shall always regret that I took 
a later steamer.” 

"'Ah!” cried Philippa, "you need not be, Mr. 
Frey I” 

"So Bobby took me to the investigation,” pur- 
sued Frey, whose eating never seemed to interfere 
with his flow of language, " and 1 stayed there two 
mortal hours, and investigated like mad. They had 
the whole gang of them there, — officers and men. 
The captain of the " Hamburger’ was there, and the 
chief engineer, and the first officer, and the second 
officer. You recollect the captain of the " Antarctic’ 
with two of the officers went down with her ?” 

"Yes,” interjected Mrs. Axenard, shuddering, 
"I remember.” 

" So they had only the first officer, and he was 
hard of hearing,” Frey went on. " All the Ameri- 
can representatives of both firms were there, and 
several reporters, and Bobby Jermyn and 1. When 
I came in they were questioning the man Gordon, — 
kind of anti-mortem Rhadamanthus. He stuck to 
/ 


82 


The Black Lamb 


his story very straight, I’ll say for him. He’d been 
in charge a half-hour when the collision occurred, 
and had been attending to his engines in obedience 
to orders. When the bell rang he took it for the 
signal ' go ahead full speed.’ At the crash he was 
horrified, and rushed up the ladder to meet the 
captain coming down.” 

''What was he like?” asked Philippa, as the 
narrator paused for the first time. 

" I was too far back to see,” Frey replied, which 
disappointed me, because his voice was distinctly 
familiar. Mr. Gordon and I have met somewhere 
in this little world. I never forget anything. The 
chief engineer was at dinner at the time of the 
accident, — but the two stokers bore out Gordon’s 
story, — how he had jumped for the throttle, and at 
the jar of the collision had fallen back as white as a 
sheet. And the deuce of it was that neither of 
them could say whether it was two bells or one, — 
they were stoking the engine at the time, — so there 
it was !” Frey looked about him triumphantly. 

"The captain of the 'Hamburger’ had been 
dreadfully upset,” he went on. " He was an old 
maid, anyhow. You couldn’t get out of him if the 
mistake was or wasn’t at his end, — he used the 
whole vocabulary of the English language, — and 
nobody was the wiser. But his previous record 
was unimpeachable, and everybody thought that 
if he had fumbled it was quite unconsciously. 


The Black Lamb 83 

Both the other officers were on deck during the 
accident/' 

Who was Gordon, — a man they had long em- 
ployed ?” put in one of the listeners edgewise. 

No,” answered Frey, he was a new hand, — a 
protege of a fellow I knew in London, Roderick 
Merchant. Merchant got him the place, and they 
had a letter from London to say how sorry he was 
that his protege had disgraced himself, — and so 
forth. Merchant was a queer devil, — a great sport- 
ing-man. He's the second son of a baronet, and 
has been through two fortunes already. He's in- 
terested in Train & Vanbrugh, — the steamship line, 
— and he got Gordon the berth because Gordon had 
a lot of letters testifying to his honesty and ability.'' 

Mr. Frey paused again and reined in his tongue ; 
but his silences were never very inviolable. 

""Then they couldn't fasten the negligence on 
anybody ?'' 

""No, they could get no satisfaction — anyway. 
The engineer was at fault, — but nobody knew how 
far to blame the captain, and how much was the 
fault of the electrical apparatus of the vessel, which, 
of course, was new and untried. So they did what 
they could. They dismissed Gordon, whom no- 
body knew, and kept the captain who had sailed 
for them for twenty years. And they hustled 
Bobby and me into the street when they were 
done.'' 


84 


The Black Lamb 


Mr. Frey, being at an end for the moment, 
devoted himself to his guinea-fowl in silence. 
He knew that the others were far too interested 
in the subject not to chase it into every hole and 
corner. 

The whole thing was so grossly careless that I 
remember it with a sort of wonder/’ said Mrs. 
Axenard. ''I confess I thought that such things 
were impossible nowadays on ocean steamers.” 

am truly thankful that I never knew of it till 
you told me,” said Mr. Axenard; ''but all the 
same, there is nothing to wonder at in the accident. 
Such things happen every day, only this, of course, 
was a particularly prominent case. Where did you 
say you met the fellow Merchant, Frey ?” 

"In London, just a month or so before I left,” 
Frey replied. " He asked me to his rooms and 
presented me to a young fellow named Musgrave, — 
a charming specimen of Briton, I thought.” 

"Musgrave,” said Philippa. "Mother, didn’t 
Mr. Conway tell us about meeting some man of 
that name, — at some house where Mr. Frey was ?” # 

"Conway — Conway,” repeated Frey, thought- 
fully. "1 remember meeting two big chaps at 
Merchant’s rooms one night, — and one of them was 
named Conway, I think. 1 remember, for 1 took 
him for a Hindu, — a great big fellow with a long 
brown face.” 

"That is certainly Mr. Conway,” laughed Phil- 


The Black Lamb 


85 

ippa, '*and his friend was poor Colonel Sartoris’s 
son. Your Mr. Musgrave crossed with them on 
the ' Hamburger.’ ” 

Is Musgrave in New York?" cried Frey at this ; 
“ why I must see this fellow and find out where 
he’s staying." 

No, he went on to Colorado." 

‘"Colorado — Musgrave! How absurd, and yet 
how natural. Musgrave was just the inexperienced 
youth to fancy that his fortune lay in the golden 
West. He won’t stay. He’ll turn up inside of a 
year — very badly off." 

“Many do, certainly; so don’t think yourself a 
prophet," put in Mr. Axenard. “ Only see that he 
doesn’t come to you for money to pay his passage 
back to England." 

“ I wou-ldn’t have it to give him, — I’m a pauper !’’ 
declared Frey. “ All my last set of stories has 
gone to one of his countrymen — Merchant, no less 
— in a bet I was fool enough to make." 

“ And we fancied that you had no vices, Mr. 
Frey !’’ 

“ Oh, I haven’t," said Frey, cheerfully, “ not one 
— not half a one. When I’m tired of being virtu- 
ous 1 sit down and make my hero forge a check and 
commit murder, or run away with his neighbor’s 
graven image, and covet his ox and his ass, you 
know. It lets off steam, and doesn’t compromise 
one’s private character." 


8 


86 


The Black Lamb 


What an excellent idea. But this wager,— was 
Merchant wise in the horse that wins ?” 

No ; curiously enough, it was this wretched 
* Antarctic' business," said Frey. 1 bet Merchant 
that she would get into port an hour after the " Ham- 
burger', and you all know that she did no such 
thing." 

There really seems to be no end to it," Philippa 
joined in. "^But you're not the only loser, Mr. 
Frey. Lots of lovely things went down in my 
trunks, and just when 1 knew that I had nothing 
really dutiable." 

Your pang would have been worse if you had," 
he assured her ; surely that’s a consolation. But 
1 really must be off ; 1 have an appointment at three, 
and it is after that now.” 

He lingered a moment, and then took his depart- 
ure with accurate tardiness. 

Mrs. Axenard and Philippa went into the library 
and sat over the fire together. Mr. Axenard, who 
was a restless man, paced the room in a path that 
he had laid out for himself in imaginary definition 
on the carpet. 

Young Sartoris came to see me to-day," he told 
his wife. "‘The colonel was very careless, in not 
placing the boy before this." 

" " But surely jack Sartoris has money ?" she replied, 
looking up. “His father left him all he had, 1 
suppose." 


The Black Lamb 


87 


As he left just about two thousand dollars in 
bank, and not another cent, the boy's as good as 
penniless." 

^'Impossible !" she cried. " Why, Colonel Sar- 
to ris was rich !" 

"He lost every penny in his 'Duchess' mine 
speculation. Lucky for him he didn’t live to be 
ruined. The firm kept it from him, and sprung it 
on the boy." 

Philippa gave a little cry of pity, and her mother 
exclaimed, — 

" How terrible ! Poor boy, what will he do ? 
And there’s Noel Conway, too !’’ 

" Conway has a trifling yearly income, 1 believe, 
about enough to keep an average man in neck-ties. 
But he’ll have to make it do. I’m going to look 
about for the lads ; they’re smart, and will do very 
well in time." Mr. Axenard ceased his pacing to 
kiss his wife, and left his women-folk to digest this 
information, which they did with much analysis 
and more pity. 


CHAPTER VII. 


Rustum to Raksh, his horse, spake, “ Let us see 
What monster howling in yon cave may be.” 

With drawn sword Rustum strode into the cave. 

Lo, ’twas the wind that roared through vacancy ! 

When Jack Sartoris came to look into his father’s 
affairs, and found that beyond a few thousands he 
owned absolutely nothing, he was conscious of no 
feeling greater than amazement. Money had always 
been plenty with him ; he had lived at an easy gait, 
not perhaps as a millionaire, but within compass. 
What joy of life had been denied him ? This new 
problem had never faced him, even as a possibility. 
He had not been an extravagant boy, and his father 
had been a generous-minded man, — never hinting 
economy, never suggesting retrenchment, never 
opposing an objection to any plan of travel Jack 
might desire to undertake. What more natural 
than to suppose that this attitude was enduring ? 

Jack had planned with Noel during these last 
long evenings a prospective tour, to be taken just 
as soon as they could get out of New York, and 
had decided that this time it was to be the East, 
Egypt and Palestine, and later India. Beyond these 
88 


The Black Lamb 


89 

stretched an indefinite vista including Japan and 
China, the less-known provinces of Asia Minor, 
a trip to Kamschatka for the hunting, and a search 
for the Grand Lama among the sacred cities of 
Thibet. 

Partons, nous sommes seuls, I’univers est a 
nous I” Beyond these four eyes glowed a veritable 
cycle of Cathay, a lifetime of wanderings with 
none to let or hinder. All that must be considered 
(in their plans) was the sale of the house in Wash- 
ington Square ; all that must be arranged was the 
settling of affairs and the disposal of effects. Then 
the first steamer was to carry them bodily into their 
dream. And now to find that it was indeed a 
dream ! 

For a long time Jack could not understand it ; the 
situation refused to be weighed and measured. He 
had long talks with the lawyers and went over 
innumerable documents, statements, accounts, 
mortgages, and certificates of stock. He brought 
home immense ledgers and account-books, and, 
saying nothing to Noel, locked himself into the 
library, and pored over them. He estimated and 
re-estimated, calculated and recalculated, figured 
and pondered, wrote and puzzled in vain attempts 
to conjure his vanished fortune into reality. The 
thought grew from a horrible conjecture into a 
swift and no less horrible reality that he was with- 
out prospects and ruined. He pushed the books 
85 ^ 


90 


The Black Lamb 


from him, and tossed aside the papers with a slap, 
saying, and his voice seemed to clinch the thing, 
making it irrevocable, — 

The truth is I’m a pauper, and to-morrow I’ve 
got to get something to do.” 

''Eh?” said Noel, drowsily from the next room. 
The library was large and oblong with book-cases 
rising to the ceiling. Over the fire-place hung an 
oil painting of Jack’s mother in a befurbelowed 
ball-gown. The desk at which he sat was lighted 
by the lamp in a great white circle, into which the 
young man’s troubled face kept emerging and re- 
tiring. The fire had gone out, but there was a 
bright one in the smoking-room, — a little nook 
built out as one builds a conservatory, and softened 
by silk hangings and rugs. A dim lamp hung from 
the ceiling, and, as the door stood open. Jack could 
just see Noel as he sat deep in his chair, his head 
on his breast, the thin smoke of his pipe rising like 
a veil before his half-shut eyes. His hair was 
roughened into peaks, and twists, above the high 
narrow forehead. His eyes, under their heavy lids, 
shone like agates or opals, the long lines of his 
frame were in repose, and his face was dreamy. 
Jack hesitated to rouse him. 

"Eh?” said Noel again, as his friend made no 
answer. Then he went on in a slow monotone, 
"There’s a certain concentration of mind that the 
higher adepts attain, by clinching their soul, as it 


The Black Lamb 


91 

were, around one thought. It’s akin to the trance 
state, but 

Bosh !” exclaimed Jack, irritably. He was usu- 
ally tolerant enough of Noel, to-night his nerves 
were jangled, and the other's mysticism annoyed 
him. "'Con,” he said, "jump out of that mental 
tangle and come here. This will cure your vapors.” 

Noel came into the room, his pipe in hand. 

" Look there,” Jack continued, thrusting forward 
a paper on which he had scribbled the result of his 
calculations, "do you see that?” 

"You're horribly materialized since you came 
into this Gehenna,” Noel remarked, taking it. Then, 
" Ah I” he said, holding it under the lamp, " that’s 
bad ; good Lord, Jack, that is bad !” He laid the 
paper down and stared at Jack with a glance clean 
washed from the state of mind of the higher 
adepts. 

" I’ve been fiddling over it for two days trying to 
make it turn out better,” said Jack, wearily, "and 
that’s the result. You see what it means? No 
Egypt or India for us, but hard dirty work some- 
where in this blaring city. 

"This house and everything in it will have to 
be sold as soon as possible,” he continued, as Noel 
whistled softly, but made no reply. "We can’t 
go on living on our principal, our princely fortune.” 
He flipped the edge of the paper contemptuously. 
"If my poor father had lived he’d have been a 


92 


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ruined man. And now the question is, What are 
we to do 

"'Take rooms together, and turn in,’’ said Noel, 
succinctly, with a flash of practical insight. 

"But to what?” persisted Jack. " Who’d have us? 
We’ve no experience ? What use would 1 be ? And 
who’d have you with your head full of Buddha?” 

" The brothers at Raithapoor would take us in,” 
said Noel, not enthusiastically, but as one offering 
a suggestion. 

" No, they wouldn’t !” said Jack, sharply ; " you 
know what father thought of that. Con. No, there 
isn’t much of a chance, — and that’s a fact.” 

Noel put himself into a chair and bent his brows 
over the problem. It was always impossible to tell 
what he was thinking about with that stony mask 
of his, so Jack waited. 

"Go and see Mr. Axenard,” he said, at last; 
" he’ll be a help, if it’s only in advice. You’re 
right, old man, we are an impossible pair of devils 
— for the scramble of New York.” 

"That’s an idea, — 1 will. He might get me a 
place on a newspaper, — it’s the awful slaving at a 
desk 1 hate,” and Jack began to look more hopeful. 

He went to Mr. Axenard next morning and laid 
the case before him. 

The business-man listened with considerate kind- 
ness, lamented the young man’s inexperience, 
asked many questions, answered none, and sent 


The Black Lamb 


93 


Jack away, promising nothing but his word of help. 
As it turned out, he was better than his word. 
Owing entirely to his influence Jack got a berth, an 
underling of underlings, but in an important firm. 
He felt that there was small cause for triumph, yet 
he was triumphant. Mr. Axenard's kindness did 
not stop here. He did much wire-pulling for Noel, 
with the result that a minor weekly paper con- 
sented to avail itself of that young gentleman’s 
valuable services. It was a position that could not 
well be termed journalism, but was a beginning. 
Noel had the sense to lock his beliefs and opinions 
in the inner casket of his soul, to appear as like 
other people as he could, and to rouse himself from 
his rather indolent habits of life. He hated the 
work, yet being undeniably clever, somewhat orig- 
inal in method, and quietly persistent, soon slipped 
into a niche that he filled fairly well. 

The house in Washington Square was placed on 
the market, and Mrs. Axenard was constant in her 
help during the dismantling that followed. Some- 
times Philippa dropped in with her, so frankly 
natural, so naturally helpful with her quiet decision, 
that in time her great superiority to her sex dawned 
on their minds. Jack chatted and laughed with 
her, both sought for her opinion with anxious def- 
erence, and Noel felt no restraint at her presence, 
but went his way with renewed cheeriness of heart. 
She, on her part, if she liked Jack well, studied his 


94 


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friend with a growing interest. It was not easy to 
come to a decision concerning him. At first she 
termed him, with unqualified disapproval, rude 
later, she substituted the adjectives morbid” or 
'"moody.” She discovered that he was nervous, 
susceptible to sound and sight, and easily un- 
balanced. She discovered that he was abnormally 
superstitious ; she noted the expression with which 
he threw down knife and fork on one occasion 
when thirteen dined by chance at her father s table. 
The utter impassibility of his face, with its quick 
flashes of vivid expression, set her watching it ; 
and how much of this was truth, and how much 
pose ; how the moments of black mysticism when 
he sat blind and deaf, wrapt in a chaos of medita- 
tion, were to be reconciled with his frank, simple 
manner and occasional boyish gayety, was to Phil- 
ippa a perpetual puzzle. 

She fell to looking at him with a great pity in 
her brown eyes that Noel neither saw, nor, had he 
seen, would have understood. The fatal vision of 
his mother, her lovely face bent over him, thrust 
itself between him and any woman’s face he had a 
fancy to note. Often as he dwelt on it, the bitter- 
ness never dissolved ; the draught was stronger at 
every taste. 

It was well into the New Year by the time the 
boys were settled in their new quarters. They had 
a couple of rooms, sitting-room and bedroom. If 


The Black Lamb 


95 


one was small, the other at least was well-sized and 
cheery, and filled with dear familiar things. The 
portrait of Jack’s mother and the colonel’s charcoal 
sketch of Richard Conway formed a supplementary 
gallery to their collection of photographs and foreign 
relics. There was a well-filled book-case, and in 
the centre of the room a round table, — the colonel’s 
favorite table, — and a couple of big leather chairs 
from the colonel’s library were drawn up under the 
lamp. The other furnishings were meagre and 
necessary : a lounge and a desk, a rack for pipes, 
and a cabinet where they kept anything from twine 
to cheese. Small as it was, they contracted a love 
for the place, and night after night, when they 
returned from the drive of work, it grew more 
homely and familiar. 

Otherwhere matters were less satisfactory. Work 
was a new task, the drudgery went slowly against 
the grain. Jack, ’tis true, with something of an 
American’s activity, grew to accept his fate and the 
world with a livelier interest. Noel, although his 
stint had more variety, found it grate against every 
fibre of his philosopher’s constitution. He hated 
the city, its hurry and tension, its ostentation and 
clamor, the self-satisfaction of its fashionable crowds, 
the screaming activity of its trade. Every day and 
all day he combated against the indolence of his 
Creole heritage ; he strove to walk the same beat as 
other men, to make his pulse throb along with 


The Black Lamb 


96 

theirs. But in this whirling crowd, where was his 
place, what his interest? To his comrades in the 
office he was simply an oddity who took no interest 
in elections, and looked up with blank eyes at topics 
on which most men are extravagant ; who had no 
normal taste save perchance for athletics. He found 
very soon that he was being treated with ill-dis- 
guised contempt and surliness, and he was not a 
man to allow either. So he took the chance one 
day, when the editor happened to be out of the room, 
to give a practical exhibition of boxing. It might 
have cost him his position, but as it restored him to 
respect it was worth the risk. Later on, a similar 
bout at fencing, given at a less dangerous moment, 
and a succinct history of the long, thread-like scar 
that ran up one side of his face from jaw to crown, 
increased respect to a qualified admiration, whereat 
Noel, having achieved his intention, fell back into 
indifference. 

One friend, however, he did make. This was a 
brisk young fellow named Forbes, whose particular 
passion for all sorts and conditions of men led him 
to make advances to the queer fish” in the Weekly 
Record office. He carried Conway by storm in a 
series of blunt and masterly kindnesses, and Noel 
could do no less than take him home for Jack’s 
benefit. Forbes stayed until two o’clock, and went 
away in a glow of enthusiasm. The two gentle- 
manly adventurers,” as he termed them, their ideas 


The Black Lamb 


97 


and their travels, Noel’s superstitions and his relig- 
ious views, all these threw this student of human 
nature into a frenzy of discovery. His mother im- 
plored him to remember that his last treasure-trove 
had disappeared with some of the table-silver, and 
that among other nuggets of oddity for which he 
had digged, several had proven far less satisfactory 
as acquaintances than as studies. But Forbes had 
the passion of curiosity, his whole talk was of his 

Hindu priest,” and nothing might quench the fer- 
vor of his penetration. Forbes joined to the fluent 
vitality of the journalist the ardor of the author for 
types. Life was for him a chase among anomalies, 
a perpetual adventure lacking only finish and de- 
nouement. No geologist seeking for specimens 
was more insatiable than he ; he played the dual 
roles of dramatist and spectator, and characters 
swarmed in his imagination like bacilli under the 
lens of a microscope. 

This temperament had some points in common 
with Noel, who recognized and seized upon it. 
Forbes took him home, where Mrs. Forbes, relieved 
to find the specimen so harmless, received him 
graciously. 

Noel found Forbes, if as restless as quicksilver, 
interesting and his household not alarming. He 
disliked new places and new people, but these were 
to his taste ; there was no effort in the greeting, 
and he promised very willingly to come again. 

E ^ 9 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Chance, how it moves and circles, nears and nears, — 

Past folly and blank ignorance tacks and steers ; 

What man shall mark his Fate approach him, till 
Its footstep gives the echo to his fears ? 

Mr. Clement Frey was a somewhat anomalous 
figure in the literary life of his city. As a story- 
writer he owned considerable charm ; as a man, 
singularly little. He had contrived by a trifling 
expenditure of sarcasm to make himself generally 
unpopular, although, like many an unpopular man, 
his friends were as fervent as his detractors were 
clamorous. They clamored the more im potently 
perhaps because cavilling criticism could find ex- 
ceedingly little fault with the matter and manner 
of his work, which from the first bore the stamp 
of an impressive talent. It was delicate, it was 
individual, it was marked by an exquisite perfect- 
ness of fancy ; without being slavishly eccentric it 
followed the tread of a higher literature than the 
present. It had been translated ; it had been issued 
in English editions, and it had been compared 
variously, and with an equal suggestion of truth, 
to Sterne, or to Hans Andersen, or to Jean Richepin. 

98 


The Black Lamb 


99 


But although in the main an amiable man, and 
certainly a well-meaning one, no author was more 
disappointing to meet than Frey. His Muse seemed 
to despise him, she did not brush him with the 
airiest flutter of her wing. He was pasty, he was 
pudgy, his eye, although quick to note, was dull ; 
his conversation, as we have seen, was the gallop- 
ing narrative. His mind, when you struck through 
the envelope of personality, had many companion- 
able qualities ; at the Axenards, where he was at 
his best, and at his club, where he was at his worst, 
his opinions were trenchant, and his rapidly gathered 
conclusions notable for their frequency and inap- 
titude. But the frank observation of an older man 
of letters — "'How he must irritate his genius!” — 
was a verity that had been brought home more 
than once to every soul of his acquaintance. 

During the winter, and while Noel Conway and 
Jack Sartoris were viewing day after day slip 
through their hands with the same maddening 
insulficiency, Mr. Frey was putting the finishing 
touches to a work that was to stand very high 
among the exalted. He worked haltingly, almost 
flippantly, picking up the manuscript and scrawling 
at a page or two before going out to dinner ; or 
rewriting a paragraph during the pauses of dress- 
ing. To see him dash at his desk for half an hour 
in the interstices of an astonishing net-work of 
occupation would convince one that literature was 


100 


The Black Lamb 


a pastime, and that dining-out, theatre-going, and 
sitting at clubs were the serious affairs of life. His 
Pegasus was but a skittish colt nibbling shyly at the 
grass of Parnassus, or anon giving a kick of its 
heels to unseat the rider. But the concentration of 
the man during these half-hours, the delicate touch 
of his tool as he worked, these were beyond praise. 
His mood, while it carried him, bore him aloft level 
and firm ; he put pen to paper with an unwavering 
certainty, and ceased only because the light flickered 
or grew dim. At times a fever of work would lay 
hold upon him for a longer strain, at this engage- 
ments, appointments, promises, — everything went 
by the board until the thing was done. 

One such night as this he sat writing while his 
valet waited with his coat, and a cab waited at the 
door to take him forth to dinner. The night was 
dark and wet, a cold and clinging mist hung in the 
air, and rain-drops bespangled the .pane of the un- 
curtained window. A fire of logs cracked upon 
the tiles, the lamps burned steadily ; and through 
an open door one beheld the piled dressing-table 
shining with silver, — ^while in the pier-glass stood 
reflected the figure of the valet, daring not to speak, 
and still perplexedly holding his master s dress-coat 
in his hand. Clement Frey, coatless and in his 
white waist-coat, was writing furiously, his mouth 
drawn in a thin line, and his eyes glued to the 
paper. 


The Black. Lamb 


lOI 


Suddenly there came an interruption, an electric 
bell vibrated, steps were heard, and voices in the 
corridor. Frey, with a second subdominant por- 
tion of his brain, heard one ask his name, and 
heard his man give answer, — 

don’t know, sir. You’ll have to wait, sir. 
He’s at work, and I daren’t disturb him now.” 

Martin!” he called, sharply, who’s that?” 

'^Gentleman to see you, sir,” replied the valet, 
advancing into the room with a card. Frey looked 
down and up, bit his pen-handle, wrote a word or 
two, made a despairing grasp at the skirts of his 
vanishing inspiration, and finally turned with a 
sigh. 

Give it to me,” he said, resignedly ; who is 
the damned fool, anyhow?” 

The damned fool, on the testimony of an ab- 
surdly small piece of pasteboard, proved to be no 
other than Mr.. Roderick Iveagh Wimborne Mer- 
chant ; and Frey, still coatless, was presently 
shaking him by the hand in the corridor. 

'"My dear fellow!” cried the author. "'I had 
no idea you were on this side of the ferry. When 
did you arrive?” 

"•'Yesterday, on the " New York,’ ” Merchant re- 
plied, as he followed his host into the room. ""I 
had no time to let any one know 1 was coming, so 
I looked up your address at once.” 

""And now you’re here you’ll stay of course?” 

9 * 


102 


The Black Lamb 


urged Frey. Martin, give me my coat.'' He 
pulled it on in a series of jerks, talking all the 
time. We’ll make a night of it, — you haven’t 
dined? Of course not. We’ll have some supper 
sent in and arrange your Gotham campaign, — for 
of course you’re going to do society? I’ve nothing 
to do, and it’s a beastly night. . . . Working? 
Oh, yes, but that can wait.” 

He scribbled on a card. '' Here, Martin, take this 
up to the restaurant, — oh, and tell them to send my 
Perrier-Jouet, and not that stuff they sent last week, 
for I shan’t drink it.” 

And the cab, sir?” said the man, doubtfully. 

''Haven’t I said I wasn’t going out?” said Frey, 
sharply ; " send it away, of course. Or no, send it 
to the house where I was to dine and present my 
excuses. Say, Mr. Frey is at work, do you hear? 
It isn’t rude,” he continued, addressing Merchant. 
" I’ve been making myself too cheap lately, and am 
going to take refuge in eccentricity. Stupid house 
and stupid people, but they appreciate eccentricity. 
Tell ’em to look sharp, Martin.” Concluding these 
remarks, Mr. Frey settled his disordered cravat, 
poked the burning logs, and drew up a chair for his 
guest. 

No smile of pleasure at all these preparations for 
his comfort crossed Merchant’s face. He looked 
thinner and smaller than he seemed five months ago 
in London ; his face, although as featureless as his 


The Black Lamb 


103 


host’s, had a less ingenuous expression ; there were 
hair-like pencillings on his forehead and near the 
corners of his mouth, and his air of subdued dissi- 
pation had in some degree intensified. He spread 
out his broad white hands to the heat, and rubbed 
them, while Frey poured out a torrent of ques- 
tions. 

1 would have let you know my plans at once, 
had 1 known them myself,” he answered to one of 
them ; but I decided only at the last moment.” 

Ah, so it’s business, is it ?” said Frey. That’s 
bad. I had a hope it might be pleasure.” 

"'Pleasure, no doubt,” replied Merchant, cour- 
teously ; " but primarily business, 1 believe, — this 

horrible affair of the " Antarctic,’ you know ” 

"So that’s what brings you? Well, well. I 
thought that would stir up something. Will they 
prosecute, do you think ?” Frey seated himself on 
the opposite side of the fireplace, and leaning his 
head on his hand contemplated his visitor. 

""That’s what I am to find out,” Merchant made 
answer. He was still warming and manipulating 
those wonderful white hands of his before the 
blaze. ""We are particularly anxious to avoid a 
lawsuit ” 

""Naturally,” interjected Frey. 

-"" and I have been instructed to take a semi- 
official glance at the situation. Some sort of a 
settlement will have to be made, so don’t mention 


04 


The Black Lamb 


the nature of my mission, will you ? My name is 
not in the firm, and fm supposed to be pleasuring.” 

''Oh, 1 shan’t turn over any other cook’s ome- 
lette,” said Frey. " You can rely on my indiscre- 
tion ; 1 never talk about anybody but myself. But 
you’re very much in this, aren’t you ? The man 
who was at bottom to blame for the whole affair, — 
Gordon, — wasn’t he a protege of yours ?” 

"No protege, save in the sense that I got him 
his place,” said Merchant, who must have been 
thoroughly chilled, for he had drawn yet closer to 
the fire. " Of course it’s dreadfully unfortunate. 
Poor Gordon, — he seemed a trustworthy fellow. I 
am distressed that he made such a beastly mess of 
things.’* 

" Well, you may be right, but 1 should hardly 
call him trustworthy,” said Frey, jerking his chair 
back from the hearth. 

Merchant smiled his stealthy, not reassuring 
smile. "You can hardly, I fancy, be so good a 
Judge of that,” he remarked, politely. 

"No,” said Frey, "perhaps not. Still, I was 
there at the investigation, and 1 remember it struck 
me that Mr. Gordon was pretty badly scared.” He 
spoke meditatively, gazing into the fire from whose 
depths he evoked the whole scene, and even the 
strident, pleading voice of the engineer as he told 
his story ; so ’twas not for a second or two that he 
noticed how Merchant had turned towards him a face 


The Black Lamb 


105 


from which the smile was wiped, leaving it gray 
and dotted with shining beads of sweat. 

''You were present at the investigation?” said 
Merchant, his eyes fixed upon Frey. "Thafs 
curious, now ; I shouldn’t have thought you liked 
such things.” 

"Oh, I went,” replied Frey, carelessly, "as one 
goes to any show.” 

Merchant had twisted himself around in his chair 
to regard his host, and even the broad back of his 
hand, laid over the arm, was damp like his face. 
"You didn’t think Gordon trustworthy, — why? 
What did you think of him ?” There was a pierc- 
ing note of anxiety in the man’s voice, however he 
tried to keep it light and indifferent. 

Frey rose suddenly, and going over to the table, 
turned down a smoking lamp. " Oh, 1 didn’t think 
much about it,” he said from where he stood ; " the 
fellow was deuced careless, of course, but he’s likely 
to suffer for it as much as any one.” 

" You’re quite right,” said Merchant, in his 
smooth, deep voice. "I am truly sorry for poor 
Gordon, and anxious to interest myself in him. Is 
he in America, do you know ?” 

" He took the next steamer home, they tell me,” 
said Frey; "but more I never heard. And here 
comes supper,” he added, as two waiters bearing 
trays made an appearance in the door-way, "and I’m 
as hungry as the fellow in Grimm, you know.” 


io6 


The Black Lamb 


Merchant protested jovially that he was equally 
voracious, and they sat down to table. 

""And to get back to first principles, how long 
do you intend to favor Uncle Sam?’' Frey asked, 
noting with an exquisitely observant under-glance 
how his guest’s face flushed at the first glass of 
wine, while his food remained untasted. 

"" Oh, as long as possible. I’ve always wanted to 
do New York, don’t you know, — and I’ve several 
letters of introduction.” 

"" You must let me put you up at my club, and 
take you to some friends of mine, — charming peo- 
ple, and quite out of the ordinary.” 

"" I shall be delighted.” 

Then fell a pause : conversation, which at first 
flowed in so smooth and genial a channel, seemed 
unaccountably obstructed. Frey ate with frank 
avidity : Mr. Merchant used those dexterous hands of 
his more on his wine glass than on his knife and fork. 

"" You got my check ?” said Frey, suddenly look- 
ing up. "" You must have won a lot of money by 
that accident. Merchant ?” 

The remark was abrupt and impertinent, but Mr. 
Merchant was a man of good humor. He too 
looked up and laughed. ""Oh, not so much,” he 
said, lightly; ""I made a great talk about it, but I 
wasn’t in deeper than other fellows. And really, 
you know, I felt as if I ought to call the thing off, 
winning in such a way.” 


The Black Lamb 


107 


'"The terms were all right/' Frey said. "Cer- 
tainly the ' Antarctic' did not get into New York 
within an hour of the ' Hamburger.' And that re- 
minds me," he continued, — " what's become of 
that nice boy I met at your lodgings, — Musgrave ? I 
hear he's on this side." 

Merchant looked to right and left with a show of 
embarrassment. "I haven't heard from Andrew 
Musgrave," he said, slowly, "and, between our- 
selves, Frey, I'd rather not. We won't go into it, 
but he behaved rather badly, and I was forced to 
drop him, you understand." 

"Oh, all right," said Frey, whose mood was 
unusually acquiescent. " Have some more cham- 
pagne ?" 

The flame of their talk flickered to and fro, and 
burnt low. Frey was not sorry when Merchant 
rose to go after promising to accompany the author 
to luncheon at the Axenards before many days. It 
was striking eleven as the door shut upon the visi- 
tor, and Frey counted the strokes as he threw him- 
self into a chair. His face was seamed with thought, 
the eyebrows contracted, his hand beat a restless 
tattoo on the arm of his chair. 

"There's something in it," he ejaculated with a 
jerk of his head. "The man was scared and 
shaken as if I had hit him somewhere. The wine 
leaped in his glass, his fork rattled on his plate, — 
now, what the deuce? I must find this out, there's 


io8 The Black. Lamb 

something here, be sure. His hand was wet when 
I wrung it, yet he was well on his guard too. 
Queer. I wonder where young Musgrave really is?'’ 

He rose, leaning his elbows on the mantel-piece, 
and contemplated a photograph of Philippa Axenard 
that rested there. The calm eyes and delicate mouth 
touched him with an indefinable thrill of pleasure. 

Clement Frey was quite uncertain in what light 
he regarded Miss Axenard. He adored many pretty 
women. This girl held a place which, if it was not 
among these, at least none among these had in- 
vaded. He could not compliment and he could 
confide in her. Often had he told himself that 
these were dangerous signs, even although in her 
presence his pulse had never fluttered a beat faster. 

*H’ll take him there,” ran his thoughts, '"and 
she’ll help me ; a clever woman is worth a corps 
of Lecoqs. This is a case where a man’s intuitions 
are too rusty ; he doesn’t sharpen them on every 
unfortunate, like a woman.” 

He whistled a bar or two, and went into his bed- 
room in a comparatively satisfied frame of mind. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Life is a song, so sing it perfectly, — 

What if, in singing, ye let saints go by? 

I make the song, so sing it true and clear, — 

What matter if, in singing, ye shall die? 

A New York girl is either the broadest or the 
narrowest creature in existence ; if the first of 
these, then she is apt to be one of the most 
charming. It is a place where life flows at its 
most generous current ; but there, also, a spirit 
of local conceit is most easily fostered, and such 
a spirit becomes markedly manifest in women. 
There are, however, a few families in it whose 
attitude does not bristle entirely with self-satisfac- 
tion, and some beautiful and gracious women 
touched only to their advantage by the chafing 
flow of cosmopolitan life. 

Philippa Axenard, at twenty-two, was a girl of 
unusual decision and liberality, — which does not 
mean that she was advanced to divided skirts and 
woman’s suffrage. She had read, seen, and thought ; 
noted and understood. Her innate love of beauty 
led her deep into the literature of three languages, 
just as her inborn taste had led her to see foreign 
lo 109 


10 


The Black Lamb 


countries with a calm, measured absorption and a 
discriminating perspective. In her mind, '' beauti- 
fuL’ did not stand indiscriminately for the ocean 
and the Alps, the Venus of Milo, the creations of 
Worth, the operas of Wagner, and the photog- 
rapher’s latest fad. She did not grant to every 
pretty face, new book, or strain of music an equal 
epithet, and she had the rare grace of being able to 
apply a due word of praise to people and things 
which she personally disliked. It was this faculty 
of appreciative discrimination that was one of her 
charms for Clement Frey, who was wont to say 
that in talking with Miss Axenard the enthusiasms 
of the hour seemed out of drawing, and things fell 
into a proper proportion one with another. In her 
home-life Philippa had been particularly fortunate ; 
she had been taught to cultivate her affections as 
carefully as her mind. While her parents were 
devoted to their children, they had never sacrificed 
their individuality in this direction, and in Philippa’s 
mind were no distorted values, or unhealthy falla- 
cies. The world was a good place ; home, a better. 
Books, music, paintings, tastes, ambitions, — these 
were good things to be striven for and held high ; 
but home, love, the closeness of ties, the life with 
and for others, — nothing must be allowed to inter- 
fere with these. In this rare household the intel- 
lectual life held its true place, — a little below the 
spiritual life, but nothing above these two; and 


The Black Lamb 


1 1 1 

each member of the family seeking out his best gift 
for the joy of all the rest. 

About two days after Roderick Merchant had 
been brought to the Axenards to lunch, Philippa 
received a box of roses from Clement Frey, with a 
note asking her to walk with him the following 
afternoon. She wrote an affirmative answer, but 
a little pensively, for this was the first time Mr. 
Frey’s courtesy had taken any form that could be 
construed into attention. Her mother, when Phil- 
ippa carried her the flowers, had said, "^From ?vlr. 
Frey? What beauties! How very kind of him, 
dear!” and had gone on writing notes. 

Philippa carried her thought away in silence, ar- 
ranged the roses in a slender vase, and did not tell 
everybody who entered the house who had given 
them to her. Yet the inevitable possibility that 
rises in every girl’s mind at the first distinct indi- 
cation of masculine preference was present in hers, 
nor was she strong-minded enough to drive it away. 

When she went down she found him standing in 
the middle of the floor, looking at his watch. 

'"What do you think! 1 am actually o/z time!” 
he cried as she entered, turning towards her a face 
so frank and so unimpressed by her entrance that 
her little self-consciousness quickly fled. 

She laughed. "'You must be reforming, Mr. 
Frey,” she said, tendering her hand, " or else your 
watch is slow.” 


The Black Lamb 


1 12 

"'That’s it,” he replied; "at least I hope it is. 
I have been so accurately unpunctual all my days 
that 1 don’t know what might happen if 1 took to 
arriving on time.” 

The afternoon was not too cold, and recent rain 
had swept the pavement. It was a delightful day 
for walking, but Philippa knew better than to say 
so. Frey had a hatred of obvious remarks. 

" Lie, my dear fellow, for heaven’s sake !” he 
had been known to remark to a friend, on his 
hazarding an observation on the beauty of the sky, 
" and at least I can dispute with you. Surely better 
break the truth than commit an assault on the con- 
versation.” 

As they came out into the street, he bowed to a 
passer-by. "Do you see that woman?” he re- 
marked to Philippa ; " she’s a victim to the dreadful 
habit of mourning. It’s incurable. It’s a second 
cousin now, and she’s in crape to her toes. When 
she comes out of this attack she’ll go around suffer- 
ing in colors, till some one else dies and permits her 
to indulge her appetite for crape.” 

Philippa smiled and the two walked on in silence. 
She knew that Frey was preparing to talk, and saw 
no use in precipitating the crisis. 

" Miss Axenard,” he said, at length, and very 
gravely for him, " are you fond of detective novels?” 

" Yes — quite fond,” she answered ; " if you 
mean the kind where a murder is done in the first 


The Black Lamb 


>13 

chapter, and the rest of the book is spent in finding 
out who didn't do it? I quite like them, particu- 
larly if the detective picks up the murderer’s cigar- 
ashes, or tells the family what kind of coffee is 
spilt upon the table-cloth. 1 feel so helpless, so in 
the hands of the author that 1 can’t criticise, — and 
I’m quite happy.” 

''Happy because you can’t criticise !” said Frey. 
" You are extraordinary for a woman.” 

" Perhaps 1 should say happy because I don’t have 
to think. 1 don’t know the difference in cigar-ashes 
or coffee-stains, and the author does or says he 
does ; so 1 just trust to him with that delightful 
feeling one has in seeing somebody else do the 
work.” 

" Seriously,” said Frey, as they stood on a corner 
waiting for a dray to pass. "I’m right in the 
middle of a real detective story, and I want your 
help.” 

"As critic, or amanuensis, or what?” asked 
Philippa. 

The author looked at her. " You don’t under- 
stand,” he said, in a tone of severe reproof. " This 
is life — not fiction. I’m making copy, not using it. 
How did you like Merchant?” 

"Well,” said Philippa, slowly, " you know I’m 
rather hard to please, Mr. Frey ” 

"That means you didn’t?” His tone was so 
nearly one of satisfaction that she was surprised. 
h lo* 


4 


The Black Lamb 


''Not very much/' she assented, quietly, "that 
is true/' 

" 1 ought to begin by begging your pardon. Miss 
Axenard," said Frey. "I brought Merchant to 
your house as an experiment. I wanted to know 
what you thought of him, — I wanted a woman’s 
impression. Now let me tell you all about it, and 
get your opinion.” 

He paused, but Philippa was far too wise to 
obstruct the impending flood by any observa- 
tions. 

" I think I told you a couple of months ago,” he 
continued, "about that investigation 1 went to in 
the ' Hamburger’-' Antartic’ collision. Did I men- 
tion Merchant, and the bet I had with him in Lon- 
don ?” 

"Yes,” replied Philippa in a tone of interest; 
" you spoke of it at the same time.” 

They were walking slowly up Fifth Avenue, the 
only leisurely figures in the block. 

" When this fellow turned up here last week,” 
Frey went on, "I confess I was surprised to see 
him. He had the reputation in London of being 
pretty well swept out, through connection with 
various circumstances, masculine and feminine, — 
particularly feminine. Of course, the conclusion 
was idiotically simple ; he had scraped enough cash 
together to try his luck for a rich American. Like 
the man in the Bab Ballads, you know.” 


The Black Lamb 


115 

Miss Axenard did not know, but then the apti- 
tude of Mr. Frey’s similes existed only in his gym- 
nastic imagination. 

might never have had a suspicion, for 1 am 
naturally as guileless as James 1., when the man 
himself put an idea into my head.” 

How ?” queried his auditor. 

'"Well,” said Clement Frey, impressively, prod- 
ding the pavement with his cane, 1 mentioned — 
quite casually — that I had been present at the in- 
vestigation, and at that the man went gray with 
terror. I never saw fear written so plain upon a 
countenance.” 

You mean ?” cried Philippa. 

don’t mean anything — yet,” he returned, for 
he never liked others to jump to conclusions as 
rapidly as himself ; but it set me thinking, and 
I want your opinion.” 

must wait,” she said, shaking her head judi- 
cially, "" until I hear the rest of the case.” 

''I sat down and summed up all I knew about 
Merchant,” proceeded Frey; ^^and two facts in 
the affair struck me hard. Who got the author of 
the accident his place. Miss Axenard ? Merchant. 
Who, if any, benefited by the result? Think. 
Merchant again.” 

''Ah!” cried Philippa, hastily, "surely — think 
of the risk, and for such a comparatively small sum 
as your bet ! — no man would undertake it ! Why, 


i6 


The Black Lamb 


there might have been no fog, — they might never 
have sighted each other during the voyage V' 

''There’s weight in your first objection/’ agreed 
Frey; "as to the second — well, that’s my suspi- 
cion.” 

"You mean the thing was managed,” said Phi- 
lippa, under her breath. 

"Yes,” he replied; "I suspect the thing was 
managed, and Gordon in Merchant’s pay.” 

They walked on for a few paces in silence. 

"And why do you tell this to me?” Philippa 
said, rather distastefully. 

" Because I want your help. Merchant will be 
in New York all this spring. You’ll meet him ; 
you can’t help it. He’ll do society like the Comte 
de St. Germain. You’ll have opportunities to judge 
what he’s capable of. Men naturally relax one side 
of themselves before a woman, and you’re as natu- 
rally observant as Heloise. In your presence he 
might drop a dozen clues that would never slip 
out in mine. I tried the other night, but, bless 
you, I couldn’t trip him. Oh, he’s doing the thing 
artistically, no doubt, and I only hope that he will 
keep up to the mark.” 

"But, Mr. Frey!” remonstrated Philippa, "this, 
what you suspect him of, is criminal. It’s accusing 
a man of — well, I don’t quite know of what ” 

"Of conspiracy to obtain money, and indirectly 
of murder,” he interrupted. "Don’t you see that 


The Black Lamb 


117 

is the beauty of it? it’s practically a new crime, or 
at least one that’s never been found out before. I 
never before had such an opportunity to trace a 
thing up, and I don’t want Merchant scared away 
too soon.” 

Philippa was silent, and Frey pursued : 

There’s a man I shall have to get hold of, — 
young Musgrave ; he knows if Merchant made 
more extensive bets on this one thing. We 
haven’t a bit of evidence yet, you see ; only sus- 
picions. I’ll gather it gradually, and when it’s all 
in shape we’ll slip it into the hands of the police, 
and nab our gentleman quietly.” 

*"And he will have to stand trial and undergo, 
say, fifteen years’ hard labor — if convicted ?” put in 
Philippa. 

“True,” said Frey, with an alteration of face; 
“ it isn’t pleasant for him, poor devil !” 

“ I will help you by observing Mr. Merchant 
when I have the chance, but I shall not make these 
chances. What you have described doesn’t tempt 
me, Mr. Frey.” Her eyes and voice were a little 
cold ; the proposition was distasteful to her, and 
Frey felt it. 

“ I suppose you're right,” he said, greatly disap- 
pointed ; “ still, you’ll help, and it’s just, you know. 
If he had anything to do with this, he surely ought 
to be arrested. Think of your trunks !” 

“Tempter I” she laughed; “if I help you, it 


The Black Lamb 


ii8 

will not be for revenge. But, in my opinion, you 
are mistaken. The risk strikes me as too heavy, 
the gain too small, for such an attempt. No ; I 
may not fancy Mr. Merchant, but I don’t think him 
responsible for that collision.” 

The afternoon was blending into evening, — a 
lamp stabbed the dusk here and there. Clement 
Frey’s steps grew slower and slower. 

It’s astonishing how much I like to walk with 
you,” he said, meditating. 

Do you ?” replied Philippa. I’m very glad.” 

May I drop in to-morrow evening ?” he asked, 
as they came in sight of the house. 

Not to-morrow,” she answered ; we’re going 
to the theatre. Marion Forbes and her brother 
join us, and Mr. Conway and Jack Sartoris.” 

Frey’s face grew suddenly irritated. Do you 
really like that Ram Lai youth ?” he said, distantly. 

He always seems to me to ape Zanoni.” 

He’s never read the book,” she rejoined, quickly, 
'"and that’s as near as you usually get, Mr. Frey.” 

''Humph I” sniffed Clement Frey; "why do 
you like him better than Sartoris ?” 

" What makes you think I do?” The dusk hid 
a little color that burnt in her cheek at the question. 

* Because you are so careful to call him Mister. 
Good-night, Miss Axenard.” 


CHAPTER X. 


I have plucked bitter fruit from barren tree, 

Burnt berries of distrust and enmity, — 

What wonder that I clutch them in my need. 

These golden apples of your sympathy ? 

‘‘Now, what made him say that?"’ she thought, 
vexedly, as she went up to her room. She slammed 
the door with impatience, and threw her hat and 
coat on the bed in a little gust of temper. 

“I never mentioned Noel Conway to him be- 
fore,’' she thought; “and to make him think — so 

silly ! As if calling a man Mr. means Authors 

think themselves so awfully clever ! And he must 
think me a perfect fool. It makes me furious V’ 

“Mother dear,” she said, for the doors were 
open between their rooms, and by raising her voice 
Philippa was easily heard by Mrs. Axenard, “do 
you think that Clement Frey is so very clever?” 

“ In his books, yes, — not in private life,” said her 
mother s voice ; “ but he is wonderfully observant.” 

“ Ah, observant !” cried Philippa. “Don’t you 
think he sometimes observes a good deal more than 
there is to see ?” 

“Ah, yes ; but that makes an author,” rejoined 
her mother, appearing at the door of the room, 

119 


120 


The Black Lamb 


they did not see more than there really was, 
there would not be many books written.” 

And that would be a good thing,” Philippa 
remarked. Her mother laughed, as she went to 
and fro. 

''Well, do you think that Mr. Frey has any 
sense of humor ?” she asked her daughter. " I 
have often wondered.” 

"No,” replied Philippa, confidently, "of course 
not ; and that’s why he’s so amusing. Some peo- 
ple have got to be without it, mother, in order to 
sharpen it in other people. But he thinks he has.” 

"What has Mr. Frey done to make you whet 
your tongue, Phil?” inquired Mrs. Axenard, re- 
appearing in the door-way. 

"Nothing,” replied Philippa, meditatively, " only 
to think himself dreadfully observant when really 
there was nothing to observe.” 

The theatre project to which Philippa had referred 
was an undertaking of her mother’s. 

"My dear,” Mrs. Axenard had said, " those two 
poor boys need a little pleasure. Let us ask them 
to do something.” 

Philippa looked dubious. "It will have to be 
very small and informal,” she said, "because, 
mother, remember Jack’s father.” 

" I thought of asking them to go to the theatre. 
It’s not good for those two to work hard all the 
time ; it will make Jack a dull boy, and Noel too.” 


The Black Lamb 


I2I 


'' Mother, if you ask any strangers, you will 
frighten them away !’' exclaimed Philippa. They 

are so She paused, for it was not easy to 

epitomize the difference she had in mind. 

shall ask only Lyndon and Marion Forbes,” 
said Mrs. Axenard, with determination. ''They 
know Lyndon ; and if Marion alarms them it will 
not be her fault.” 

When Jack and Noel understood that there was 
to be no hostile element introduced, they accepted 
the invitation with delight. Life had grown so 
dark and barren the last few weeks that they wel- 
comed the idea as a spot of light. Noel in particu- 
lar was in high spirits, his laughter ready, and the 
burden of his egotism slipped for an evening from 
his shoulders. 

When Philippa, a little late, ran down to greet 
her assembled guests, she found jack already deep 
in conversation with Marion Forbes, while Lyndon 
in his jerky, restless way was detailing some jest to 
his hostess. 

Marion Forbes was a slender, impetuous little 
thing, with a pair of superb eyes and hair of red 
gold. She was frank and feminine ; she shared her 
brother’s vivid interests, and occasionally his vol- 
canic enthusiasms. Moreover, she had a talent for 
designing that lifted her personality above the com- 
monplace. The Forbes family were far from rich, 
and Marion contributed much to their income by 

II 


F 


122 


The Black Lamb 


her deft and delicate pencil. Although as womanly 
a creature as ever breathed, she was proud of her 
distinction as a bread-winner, and did not make 
that honorable position a platform for crude 
opinions or the expression of affectations. She 
was natural, alive, buoyant, and far more impulsive 
and mercurial than her friend. 

Oh, Mrs. Axenard," Jack cried, do want to 
tell you something delightful about Con I He 

''Look here, shut up!’' said Noel, sternly, ad- 
vancing on him. 

"You know what a lady’s man he is," pursued 
Jack, dodging the attack. " Well, there’s a woman 
down at the newspaper office, and she " 

What the lady in question had said or done was 
not known, for Noel fell upon Jack, and they fought 
together amiably like a pair of young elephants. 

"Boys! boys I" interposed Mrs. Axenard, "the 
room isn’t big enough for such Brobdignagian gam- 
bols. You remind me of the thunder in ' Alice,' 
that got into the house and rolled about the room 
in lumps." 

" Mother, that remark is inapt enough for one of 
Clement Frey’s," laughed Philippa. 

" He would probably liken them to the Alps," 
put in Marion. " He would call Mr. Conway ' Mont 
Blanc,' you know, because he is so dark, and Mr. 
Sartoris 'Jungfrau' because he is so shy." 

There was a general laugh at this, and Lyndon 


The Black Lamb 


123 


Forbes cried, reprovingly, ^"Marion, please do not 
be so frivolous in the presence of my latest dis- 
covery, or I shall have to suppress you/' 

Am I your latest discovery ? Why ?” said Noel, 
as Forbes waved an arm dramatically in his direction. 

Oh, you take yourself so seriously,” said 
Forbes, with his head on one side, gazing at him 
as a naturalist examines a specimen, ''and you’re 
so un-American, and ” 

" Now, this is too bad, Lyndon !” cried his sister. 
"Mr. Conway, he’ll study you dreadfully if you 
don’t prevent him. He’s a mental vivisectionist.” 

" I will protect myself, if necessary,” said Noel, 
seriously. 

" Ladies and gentlemen, we must be off,” said 
Mrs. Axenard. " Mr. Forbes, you shall come with 
me. Mr. Conway, do I need to remind you that 
Nirvana is a region of absolute calm ?” 

" I take the hint,” he replied ; and Philippa found 
herself more puzzled than ever at his unrestrained 
spirits. He seemed once more plunged into boy- 
hood. 

So they all put on their coats, and hats, and capes, 
and went off to see a celebrated tragedian, who 
ought (so Lyndon Forbes said) to go about like a 
patent medicine labelled " Beware of Imitations !” 

The night, which had been cloudy, was fault- 
lessly clear when they came out of the theatre. 
Marion begged to walk home, the air was refresh- 


124 


The Black Lamb 


ing after the hot play-house, and Mrs. Axenard 
saw no objection. They were to go back to the 
Axenards’ to supper, so she marshalled her forces 
in twos, and herself started on with Lyndon 
Forbes. Marion and Jack followed, deep in gay 
chat ; and Philippa, to whose side Noel had stepped 
in silence, found herself glancing up at him with a 
kind of comical dismay. 

'' I feel as if I were taking the Sphinx for a stroll 
on the Sahara," she thought. The conceit amused 
her, and she laughed softly. 

Noel jerked, and looked down at her. I beg 
your pardon," he said; then with sudden irrele- 
vance, How very kind it was of your mother to 
take all this trouble !" 

'Mt was no trouble," Philippa replied; ''and 
naturally she is very glad to give us pleasure." 

If she spoke tritely, it was from an instinctive 
idea that he, of all men, might not agree with her. 
She had noted at times in him a strain of savage 
cynicism so at variance with his character that she 
had been pained by it. This was one of those 
happenings which leave, one knows not why, the 
doors of the mind wide open, so that the naked 
soul looks forth, and in the darkness and flying 
shadow of the streets she felt emboldened to ask 
plainly what the delicate touch of her sympathy 
had long divined. At her remark he laughed, a 
miserable laugh that rang falsely on her ear. 


The Black Lamb 


25 


''Naturally,” he repeated, "a mother devotes 
herself to her children’s happiness!” and he 
laughed again ; for it was in Mrs. Axenard’s pres- 
ence that his own loneliness lay heaviest on him. 

"What is it?” she asked, gently. "You are 
not happy?” She did not apologize nor fence 
about her sympathy with words. It seemed natu- 
ral and right to ask him all about himself. 

" I have only one cause to take from any happi- 
ness,” he replied, with an effort, — "and I am 
morbid, I know ; but the contrasts cut me deep.” 

"And nobody can help you?” Her voice was 
very low and steady ; it drew his sorrow gently to 
the surface and gave it words. The desire came 
and settled upon him to tell her all, because she 
was a stranger, because she seemed to care. What 
he could not talk about with Jack, who knew him 
to his innermost fibres, he could tell this low-voiced, 
quiet girl, whom he had not known a year. 

" You see, I go to your house, and I notice how 
your mother loves you all,” he said, looking any- 
where save at the person he was addressing, " and 
it hurts me because my mother ” 

The never-spoken word stuck in his throat. 

" She did not love you?” Philippa said, pitifully. 

"I was in her way, and she disowned me,” 
replied Noel, with an icy distinctness of utterance. 
" It would have relieved her greatly if— I had died.” 

Reserved people, in moments of tension, some- 

II* 


126 • 


The Black Lamb 


times do very unreserved things. Philippa, in the 
first gush of her pity, put out her hand with an 
involuntary gesture of comfort, then, remembering 
herself, drew it back. Noel had not seen the mo- 
tion, his eyes were fixed on the centre of the street. 
But even the silence was enough. He poured it all 
out with rigid self-analysis, — he did not keep back 
one morbid thought, — his bitterness, his selfish- 
ness, his passionate longing for a place and people 
of his own. Not with puling complaint or accusa- 
tion, but simply, boyishly, ridding his heart of 
everything that cankered it, — the loneliness, the 
abandonment. 

'"This is all dreadfully egoistical,’' he concluded ; 
"but I don’t mean it so, indeed. Miss Axenard. 
It’s only that a man has some rights, and surely his 
mother’s love is one of them. And it isn’t unnat- 
ural to feel sore when you are knocked out of it, 
is it? Especially when you need it more than 
anything in the world.” 

Philippa was silent. They were passing under a 
lamp, and he glanced at her. Her face was turned 
aside, and only the delicate profile showed in relief 
against the dark background. The long lashes 
were rigidly horizontal, but her lips were quivering. 

"You are very good,” he said, holding his breath ; 
and for a little they went on without speaking. 

"lam afraid I can help you very little,” she said, 
at length, and her voice was steady as ever, so 


The Black Lamb 


127 


steady that Noel wondered if he had been mistaken 
to think her moved. Yours is not a grief that 
you can share with any one. But I feel sure it will 
all come right. Some day your mother will need 
you, and be ashamed. Some day she will come to, 
you, ready to give you all the love she has stored up 
for you, and then it will be your turn to be sorry.” 

1 would like to think that, — 1 shall try to,” he 
replied; ''and believe me, were she to send one 
word to-morrow I should forget it all — all — if she 
would only care for me once more. In my memory 
she is so loveworthy.” 

"You will not fail her when the time comes, I 
feel sure,” Philippa said, earnestly ; " and oh ! lam 
sure that she has had her punishment. But — all 
this is of no use to help you.” 

"You have helped me more than I can say 
merely by listening,” he answered, and he held her 
hand close for a moment. "1 can forget myself 
among the clouds at times, but we are all so chained 
to earth, the warnings that come to us are so little 
regarded. 1 must have known you in some former 
existence 1 think, we speak so easily together.” 

Philippa started to speak, and paused in a dumb- 
ness of perplexity. The dark face above her gave 
no clue, the eyes were half closed and dreamy. 
Was it conviction or pose, or the way madness lies? 
Which was the real man, the mystic or the boy 
hurt to the death by a great loss of mother-love ? 


128 


The Black Lamb 


''Which is you?'' she said, suddenly. 

"Oh,” he answered, seeming to understand 
her a little, "I don’t know. I’ve worked through 
many cycles. This is only a phase, after all. 
Think of what is beyond, — manvantara and pra- 

laya ” He paused, looking down on her in a 

sort of apology. Their eyes met, rested full upon 
each other, and parted. In Philippa's there grew a 
questioning sorrow, but she did not speak again 
till they reached home. 

The little supper passed off very gayly, and Noel 
was as merry as the best of them. Jack told him 
that Marion Forbes was simply the loveliest creature 
he had ever seen, and Noel laughed at him and his 
rhapsody. For himself he thanked Philippa with 
his eyes. He told himself that he would see more 
of her, and checked his customary cynicism when 
it rose to suggest that all women liked confidence 
and all girls' tears were very near the surface. 
Somehow she took a new place in ^ his mind, — that 
of a friend, and his image of her grew pleasant 
and comforting, yet without glorification or a 
touch of love. 


CHAPTER XI. 


We trust each other : what is this our trust? 

What but the wine-lees smoking in the must ; 

The leaven that makes all life work and rise ; 

The sunbeam, that to golden turns our dust. 

Their jaunt, besides sweetening many an hour 
of recollection, had two results. It took them 
more to the Axenards on Noel’s account, and more 
to the Forbes’ on Jack’s. Scarcely a week passed 
that did not see them with one or the other, and 
Sundays were divided between the two. In this 
manner they felt that friends had been gained, their 
world had grown wider by two households, and 
the city of their exile put on a friendlier face, as if 
to say, *"For you also a door is .open and a wel- 
come waits.” 

One Saturday night a week or two later Jack 
and Noel sat at ease after work was done. The 
night was a chilly one at the end of March ; the 
wind blew, bringing rain with it from every quarter 
of the sky. Overhead, above the glitter of the 
electric lights, great brown clouds were rushing in 
every direction at once, and wind shifted at every 
gust, now into a gush of rain, now into a rattling 
handful of hailstones. From their window, across 

* 129 


The Black Lamb 


130 

which the curtain was not drawn, they looked into 
the gulf of a pit-black street, and at the end of it a 
little glimpse of Broadway, wind-blown and bril- 
liant. What passers-by there were charged at the 
storm with lowered umbrellas and flapping capes 
that made grotesque shadows under the white eye 
of the electric lights. There was a black shine of 
wet on everything, and the city reflected the glitter 
like a polished boot. 

Saturday was commonly one of Noel’s busy 
nights, but from some combination at the Weekly 
Record office his task had been finished at the accus- 
tomed hour, leaving him a long evening in which 
to read and dream. This occurrence was rare, 
and he had appreciated it by being more than usu- 
ally comfortable. He sat up under the lamp, his 
long legs extended out on a convenient chair, and 
Sinnett’s Esoteric Buddhism” propped against his 
knee. Jack sat on the opposite side of the table 
deep in a detective novel. Smoke curled upward 
as from two incense-burners ; the big tin of tobacco 
stood handily between the two. The lamp in the 
centre of the table cast the two unlike profiles 
clean-cut on opposite walls, where they bent and 
wavered. With all the battered homeliness of its 
furnishing, the little room was undeniably cheerful. 
The proprietors were at home and at peace. 

The clock in a far corner tinkled out nine musical 
strokes. Following the sound came another, the 


The Black Lamb 


131 

quiver of the electric bell at the vestibule of their 
room. 

Who’s that?” said Noel, looking at Jack; 
''who’d go out on such a night as this, do you 
think ?’^ 

** Lyndon Forbes, perhaps,” Jack suggested. 
"'Yes, he’s coming up-stairs.” 

A footstep sounded on the stair, weary and 
heavy, and then, after a moment of hesitancy, 
came a knock. Jack jumped up and went to the 
door, to start back dumb as the figure came in. 
It was Andrew Musgrave, yet changed beyond all 
words of description. He had altered into a creat- 
ure gray and colorless ; the tint had gone from his 
yellow curls, the light from his blue eyes. Torn 
and dishevelled, tired and dispirited, he lay against 
the door-post like a man utterly worn out, and 
looked at his two friends with the mere ghost of 
his old-time smile. They were too much aston- 
ished at the first to greet him, but stood staring 
as he said, " Hullo !” with a heavy intake of the 
breath, like a sigh of utter weariness. 

" I’ve dragged all over this city in search of you,” 
he continued, in a regretful monotone. " I’ve been 
down to Jack’s house in Washington Square. I 
walked from there.” 

" But, Musgrave, what the devil has happened?” 
Jack cried, impetuously. " We thought you were 
in Colorado !” 


132 


The Black Lamb 


Andrew looked over his friend’s head to the wall 
with his tired eyes. was,” he said. '"I got 
into New York this afternoon — before dinner,” he 
gave a little laugh as weary as his voice ; that is, 
before any chance of dinner for me. All the rest 
of the time I’ve been looking for you.” He con- 
tinued to stand at the door, shifting from foot to 
foot. 

Do you mean ?” said Noel, rising also. 

"‘Cleaned out,” said Andrew. He threw out 
his hands with a comprehensive gesture, embracing 
the shabby suit and muddy boots. “All I own in 
the world is on my back,” he remarked, as unim- 
passioned and weary as before. 

“But, good heavens ! How could such a 

thing happen?” gasped Jack, remembering the 
lively carelessness of London days, and hardly able 
to believe his eyes. All that had been buoyant 
and vivid in the young man had given place to a 
wretched sordidness and fatigue. There was no 
distinction, no charm about the dejected figure ; it 
had shrunk suddenly into commonplace shabby 
^/meanness. 

“It did happen,” said Andrew, simply. “I’ll 
tell you all about it as soon as I’ve rested a little. 
I fancy I’m all right now I’m here ; but the getting 
here — in such weather — has tired me a bit. You 
haven’t got such a thing as a brandy-and-soda ?” 

The request stirred them to activity and stung 


The Black Lamb 


33 


their hospitality. Brandy-and-soda was naturally 
not to be had, but there was whiskey, and this 
Andrew said would do for once. Still wonder- 
ing, still hardly able to believe their eyesight, 
they busied themselves about the traveller. Noel 
brought him whiskey and water, and stirred the 
dying fire. Andrew fell into a chair Jack pushed 
over to him and drank the spirits greedily in gulps. 

'^You see, I had a row with my father before 
I left home/' he began, setting down the glass; 

had to cut Oxford in my last year, — sent down, 
yoi^ know, and all that. Beastly fuss over a trifle, 
I thought, but the old man was in an awful wax. 
So when I came to America I determined to burn 
all my boats ; so I took every penny I had, y'know, 
drew it all out. There wasn't much left by the 
time I reached Colorado, but my step-mother’s an 
awfully good sort, — she’s always helped me out 
when the governor wouldn’t. She sent me a hun- 
dred, and I meant to go on to Nevada, — to a ranch 
out there. But there were a lot of fellows I knew 
in Denver, and they had it high at poker and loo 
every night, and I very soon found I couldn’t keep 
it up along with them. The mother wrote she 
couldn’t send another check, so I got some cash 
out somehow and skipped back to New York. My 
last dime went on the elevated to-day, hunting up 
you fellows. That's the whole story, — except I'll 
never go West again." 


12 


134 


The Black Lamb 


He drew a chair towards him with his foot and 
put his leg on it. 

''Beastly night!'’ he remarked, with a shudder. 
"I’m glad I found you. Of course I knew it was 
all right when I got here, but the getting here 
wasn’t lively,” and he stretched the other leg over 
the chair with a sigh of satisfaction. The shrill 
liveliness of his voice had quite gone as he told his 
story, and it was evident that he had suffered from 
several points in his recent experiences. 

Jack looked at Noel and Noel looked at Jack. 
Each felt a glow of satisfaction at Musgrave’s naive 
trust and confidence. Each felt an outburst of pity 
for the prodigal. The memory of him as he struck 
them on their first meeting, gay, merry-humored, 
debonair, made the contrast all the more vivid and 
pitiful. Andrew watched their faces with wearily 
keen eyes ; but he had no need. They were quite 
of one mind in their welcome and hospitable 
intentions. 

"You’ll stay here for to-night anyhow?” asked 
Noel. 

"If you’ll let me,” Andrew said, modestly; 
" otherwise I’ll have to make for the nearest magis- 
trate’s office and get put in jail. It’s too wet to 
sleep in the streets. But I’m afraid I’ll put you out ?” 

" Not a bit !” cried both together, and, " I guess 
you’re pretty hungry, too?” cried Jack, glowing 
with hospitable warmth. 


The Black Lamb 


135 


‘'Well, Tm not starving, but I haven’t had a 
square meal since yesterday noon,” replied An- 
drew, in a burst of confidence. His face was 
already beginning to lose its gray look and his eyes 
to open and lighten. He flung back his arms, rest- 
ing his head upon them, and luxuriating in the 
comfort of the room. 

“I’m beastly untidy,” he said, apologetically, 
glancing at his clothes; “soap and water will do 
me as much good as anything — except a pipe.” 

There was an eating-shop not far off, and Noel 
dashed to it, where he invested in a hot oyster 
stew. They had also tea and crackers and whis- 
key, to which the traveller did full justice, and 
under the cheering influence regained a little spirit ; 
plucked up heart to tell them of his woes. Some- 
thing of the old lively ring came back into his 
voice as he told how he had received his step- 
mother’s check in Denver ; how that very after- 
noon he had encountered the Hon. Percy Fortescue, 
living in Denver, “for his family’s health,” said 
Andrew, with a grin ; how the Hon. Percy had 
introduced him to the “boys,” and of the month 
of gay, wild living, when the check had melted 
like a handful of sand under the bore of Niagara. 
Then he told of the following weeks of pinching 
and skirmishing, — borrowing from this person and 
working for that, — the gradual disposal of his 
baggage, his saddle and fishing-tackle, guns and 


The Black Lamb 


136 

revolvers, dressing-case and silver spurs. And 
finally, the last week of discouragement and de- 
spair ; his hurried flight back to the East, and his 
penniless arrival in New York. It could hardly fail 
to strike his hearers that nobody was to blame for 
Andrew’s misfortunes but Andrew’s extravagant, 
thoughtless self, yet this truth did not influence 
their proper sympathy. Jack, who could not recall 
anything but lavish kindness on the part of his 
own father, was shocked to hear of one who could 
disown his son for a few college escapades ; and 
Noel, with an ever-ready cynicism, heard grimly 
of the woman who refused money to her step-son. 

In this atmosphere of interest in his trials Mr. 
Musgrave expanded. "M’m going to try this place 
next,” he said, at the end of his story. 'Mf I could 
get to know some decent people in it, I don’t doubt 
I’d soon get something, — a tip on the stock-market, 
say, and make my pile. Just see how you fellows 
are settled, and you didn’t have much pull.” 

His friends hardly thought that speculation with- 
out capital was a profitable profession. They were 
not slow to air their recently acquired views on the 
labor question, and between them delivered much 
sage advice, in particular as to writing home for 
credentials. "‘Not much use in that,” said An- 
drew, sadly ; the governor’s poisoned everybody 
against me. You see I’m bound to do what I can 
here, — no chance for me at home. I will look 


The Black Lamb 


37 


around to-morrow/' he continued, puffing at his 
pipe, "^and see what’s best to do. I don’t doubt 
something will turn up.” 

His tone grew insensibly more cheerful, to the 
delight of his friends. It was so out of their 
imagination to conceive Andrew Musgrave down- 
hearted that it had quite worried them. 

^^You mustn’t get down-hearted, old fellow,” 
said Jack, reassuringly ; this is a big place, and I 
thought it a pretty nasty one last Christmas ; but 
it’s not half bad when you come to know it better.” 

''Oh, I’ll keep up,” said Andrew, sighing; 
" perhaps the mater will send me another hundred. 
She’s always been fond of me, — liked me ever so 
much better than George, and she’s about the only 
one of them that does.” 

" You’ll always have a berth with us till you get 
someting to suit,” put in Noel, knocking the ashes 
out of his pipe ; and Andrew thanked them both 
very honestly and boyishly. It was a pleasure to 
gain such thanks as Andrew had to bestow, — it 
warmed the giver’s heart. 

They sat chatting until late, arranging how and 
where to bestow their guest. The lounge in the 
sitting-room was very hard, and, determined that 
the wanderer should have a good night’s rest, Noel 
took it, giving Andrew his own bed. It was a long 
time before he fell asleep, and he twisted and tossed 
on the uncomfortable surface most of the night. 

12 * 


138 


The Black Lamb 


But when at Jast he slept, it was to dream distorted 
dreams, in which some one stood beside his pillow 
and called him my son,'' while all the time the 
face of his father's portrait on the wall above his 
head seemed to writhe with silent diabolical 
laughter. 


CHAPTER XII. 


His lips are honey, and his words are sweet, 

Oh, happy heart, such gay songs to repeat. 

Our path is often sodden and o’ercast, 

But all the ways are golden to his feet. 

He opened his eyes upon a dear, bright Sunday, 
and gave thanks for a day of rest. 

After breakfast the trio held a council of war in 
regard to Mr. Musgrave’s prospects. Andrew him- 
self was quite frank in acknowledging these to be 
sombre. He knew nobody and nobody knew him ; 
he had no credentials, and he dared not look to 
home for more than uncertain and temporary help. 
But after his night's rest he was buoyantly hopeful 
and confident that something would ''turn up," 
and, meanwhile, he was assured of a welcome 
where he was. There was a room empty in the 
house, and this Noel, out of his slender income, 
agreed to rent for him for a couple of months. This 
was no small undertaking, but Andrew was so grate- 
ful, so certain to return it, that Noel ended by feel- 
ing that a favor had been conferred on him by 
the arrangement. Mr. Musgrave, undoubtedly, pos- 
sessed the art of making the world anxious to 
oblige him. For temporary expenses the two 

139 


140 The Black Lamb 

friends made him a joint loan of twenty-five dol- 
lars, thereby augmenting what had been heavy 
enough before, nor dreaming in their youthful 
generosity that no business man in the city would 
call them wise. 

''But I’m sure to pay it back,” protested An- 
drew, pocketing the check. "I’m going to write 
home this very day, — you have some paper, haven’t 
you, Sartoris ?— and in the mean while Til look 
about me, — lots of fellows have relatives or con- 
nections here, and I’ll soon get a lift, you’ll see.” 
With which assurances Andrew fell a-whistling 
and refilled his pipe at the big tobacco-jar. 

Sunday had heretofore been spent at the Axen- 
ards, but to-day neither jack nor Noel made a sug- 
gestion that the customary visit should be made. 
They were burning with loyalty to Andrew, and 
with sympathy for Andrew’s misfortunes. No hint 
touched their minds that they were doing more, 
far more, for their friend than he could reasonably 
have expected ; but they dreaded telling his story to 
a cold heart that did not know him, and know 
thereby how harmless was any indiscretion that 
flowed from that boyish, impetuous nature. 

So it happened that Philippa, who passed that 
entire afternoon in-doors, from a vague hope that 
Somebody — she did not name it more definitely 
even to herself — might drop in for a chat, was dis- 
appointed, and spent the evening indulging a regu- 


The Black Lamb 


141 

lar attack of Sunday blues/’ in which she killed 
and buried herself with every variety of moving and 
pathetic circumstance. And Marion Forbes, who 
had been led to much the same expectation, vibrated 
restlessly from piano to drawing-board all the after- 
noon, and went to evening service in a state of mind 
in which gentle religious melancholy predominated. 
Yet when they met, at a Literature Class on Mon- 
day evening, Philippa told Marion that she had 
had "'such a nice quiet Sunday, — so restful,” and 
Marion had been loud in praise of the music at St. 
Bartholomew’s. 

Meanwhile, the unconscious causes of this du- 
plicity were much less healthily employed. An- 
drew had his adventures to tell ; they were many, 
and he recited them with much naivete. He touched 
but lightly upon his home-life and boyhood, and 
always with a manner of reserve, as if he would 
not expose the neglect of those to whom he owed 
loyalty and duty. Yet his hearers were enabled 
to gather a whole history from his evasions. 
Jack, looking back upon so opposite a child- 
hood, grew indignant and pitiful, and Noel’s too- 
sensitive sympathies tightened with a pang of fel- 
lowship. 

" You American chaps don’t realize what it means 
to be a younger son,” said Andrew, half enviously, 
— " no importance and no luck. George had 
horses and a yacht. Mind you. I’m not blaming 


42 


The Black Lamb 


George^ for he’s a deuced good fellow. He’d give 
me halves now if the governor’d let him.” 

"'And they didn’t do anything for you?” asked 
Jack, indignantly. 

'' Oh, yes,” said And re w,» cheerfully ; I went to 
Eton and to Oxford, but after I got sent down the 
governor swore he wouldn’t have anything to do 
with me. Of course I had debts, you know, and 
all that,” continued the culprit, handsomely, ''but 
what’s a fellow to do? Every fellow has debts. 
What I would have done without the mother I 
don’t know. She’s always stayed by me, and she’s 
only my step-mother too. I was nearly ten when 
she married the governor, and she took to me at 
once, nursed me through scarlet fever and all that. 
She’s a brick.” 

"Good heavens, but there’s a difference in 
women !” cried Noel, spasmodically, as if the ex- 
clamation were wrenched from him. 

"Well, there is,” said Andrew, with simplicity. 
" Some of ’em are angels — a few. But 1 say, how 
do you know ?” 

Noel gave a laugh and a shrug, and jack put in, — 

"He doesn’t know. He won’t have anything 
to do with ’em. Con’s a misogynist.” 

" So’s every man,” said Noel, with fine cynicism, 
" when he’s awake.” 

" Then men are a pretty sleepy crowd,” volun- 
teered Mr. Musgrave. ' ' Now, I’m no saint, — you see 


The Black Lamb 


43 


that, — and Tm cool-headed as most ; but some 
women can turn me round their little finger like 
worsted, — and they’ve done it too.” He laughed, 
with a reminiscent chuckle, and a glint in his blue 
eyes that lent them a new expression. 

In the evening Lyndon Forbes dropped in, not 
altogether to Noel’s pleasure. Forbes more than 
any man he had as yet encountered bore journalism 
stamped in large letters over his personality, 'and 
burnt with the fever of modern activity. He was 
self-confident, shrewd, and rampantly energetic, 
with the concenti-ated push and power of the New 
Yorker ; and with all his modernity he fairly scin- 
tillated with appreciation of life. He was always 
playing bear-leader to some oddity, studying men 
and their ways with passionate interest, and collect- 
ing a mental gallery of types. In person he was 
wiry and slender. A face stamped with nervous 
energy and self-possession, eyes snapping with 
fire and excitement, and a feverish restlessness of 
gesticulation, — this was Lyndon Forbes. 

Very rarely this agile enthusiasm was stimulating, 
but when Noel happened to be in his own dreamy 
world, it jarred him. This evening Forbes struck 
a discord with the first sentence of his greeting. 

Hullo !” he remarked, standing upon the thresh- 
old and contemplating the trio, "Mias your Ma- 
hatma come from Thibet to pay you a visit, Con- 
way, or is that merely his " aura’ ?” 


144 


The Black Lamb 


"‘Come in, Forbes,'’ said Noel, a little coldly. 

This is our friend, Andrew Musgrave.” 

Delighted to see you,” said Forbes, plunging at 
a chair, as Jack went on. 

I’m glad you turned up just now, old man, as 
Musgrave’s in rather of a hole and you might sug- 
gest a way out.” 

Do my best,” said Forbes, dashing at the to- 
bacco. Englishman, I see ? Going to do society ?” 
And his eye gleamed with the anticipation of half a 
column. 

Not exactly,” said Andrew, to whom he was 
evidently a new specimen of Yankee; ‘Mn fact, I 
can’t,” he went on, laughing with his peculiarly 
winning boyish laughter. 

''Fire away,” said the journalist, "and if the 
Buddhist there will hand me a pipe, I will listen 
with more attention.” 

Noel rose, with a sensation of helpless annoyance, 
and handed his guest a pipe in silence. Forbes 
settled himself to listen as quietly as his nature per- 
mitted, which meant that he incessantly jerked, 
twisted, and interrupted while Andrew told his 
Western experiences and laid bare his present 
penniless situation. 

" No money, you say?” said Forbes, as he made 
an end 

" No, — none.” 

" And no letters ?” 


The Black Lamb 


145 

Not one.’' 

The journalist shifted to and fro with an incisive 
look upon each of the waiting faces. Then he 
puffed a huge eddy of smoke and took out his pipe. 

You go home,” he said to Andrew ; you’ve 
not the ghost of a chance here. Go home where 
you are known, and you’ll get something surely.” 

1 can’t do that,” said Andrew, obstinately ; ‘'the 
governor’s dead set against me, and he has in- 
fluenced my friends. There’s no one at home I’d 
be willing to go to — sponge on, 1 mean.” 

Forbes opened his mouth to speak, and shut it 
again with another triangular glance. 

“Of course you know your own affairs best,” 
he replied, knocking the bowl of his pipe on the 
edge of the table “but without letters not a man 
in New York will take you. If you had credentials 
now, I might suggest addresses at least. A bright 
fellow, well connected, stands as fair a chance in 
this town as in any, 1 guess.” 

“ 1 can try to get letters,” Andrew cried, eagerly. 

“There’s your friend Merchant for one,” sug- 
gested Noel. 

“ True,” said Andrew, fiddling with a bit of paper 
on the table. He seemed to ponder for a minute, 
and then thrust the paper across toward Forbes. 
“ Will you give me the addresses anyhow ? When 
1 get credentials 1 may want to try them.” 

“Certainly,” said Forbes, taking the paper and 
G k 13 


The Black Lamb 


146 

feeling in his pockets. Hullo !” he said, with a 
change of countenance ; now where's my pencil ?" 

Here’s one," cried Andrew, impatiently. 

"'But this is a gold one my sister gave me," 
explained Forbes. " Funny ; 1 know 1 had it on 
when I left home." 

He pulled out a chain with a broken link at the 
end. 

" Maybe you dropped it here," said Jack, moving. 

" I'm afraid it has been in the street," said Forbes, 
mournfully ; and although they moved chairs about 
and examined the carpet, no pencil was found. 
Forbes was evidently much put out at the trifling 
loss. He wrote the addresses for Andrew and then 
rose to go. Noel went with him to the street. 

"Have you known Musgrave long?" the jour- 
nalist asked suddenly, his hand on the door-knob. 

" Since last October," replied Noel, waking from 
a revery. " We met in London." 

Forbes looked at him with lips laid together for 
whistling. " Well, it's none of my affair," he con- 
tinued, slowly, " but don't you let him live on you 
now, Conway. Some of these chaps think that New 
York’s made for them to sit down and dine in." 

" You quite mistake Andrew," said Noel ; " he 
has no such idea." 

" Of course, — 1 know ; but you remember. He's 
been a swell, any one can see that, and he doesn’t 
know how to work any more than I know how to 


The Black Lamb 


147 

reach the ' seven stages of divine contemplation/ 
Now you see that he gets letters and starts in/’ 

Had Lyndon Forbes known it, the force of this 
speech was quite neutralized by one tactless allusion. 
Noel was already weary of having his peculiar be- 
liefs harped upon, and this was so wantonly dragged 
in that it blotted the excellent advice from his mind. 

Thank you,” he replied, too weary even to 
protest, but 1 think you’re mistaken in Musgrave.” 

""Time will show,” remarked the journalist, and 
took his departure. 

""Rum chap,” said Andrew, when he returned, 
and they fell into discussion upon Forbes’s advice. 
"" Rather a cad, now, isn’t he ?” 

""No,” said Noel, tolerantly, ""he’s no cad, but 
he’s a peculiar fellow.” 

""I shouldn’t call him a gentleman,” responded 
Andrew, yawning ; so jerky, you know. Are you 
fellows going to bed ? It’s early yet. Oh, work in 
the morning and all that, — I forgot. 1 think I’ll go 
out for a walk. I’ll sleep the better if I do.” 

During the fortnight that succeeded this conversa- 
tion Mr. Musgrave experienced the luck of the im- 
provident. His first loan went in two hours in 
much necessary, and some unnecessary clothing. 
Comparatively little can be done toward the outfit 
of a gentleman with twenty-five dollars, so what 
Andrew could not pay for, he had charged. The 
prompt payment of a few dollars will purchase an 


48 


The Black Lamb 


extraordinary amount of credit even in New York, 
if the purchaser be not too eager and use address. 
Jack, who assisted, regarded him with amazement 
and admiration. 

"'But what are you going to do?” he asked. 
"There’s the coat and trousers, and the hat at the 
other store, and ” 

" Oh, the bills won’t come in for a month,” 
Andrew said, easily ; " by that time something will 
have turned up ; and you know one must have 
clothes.” 

Jack laughed with him. He did not feel a bit of 
righteous indignation, but instead a sort of good- 
humored tolerance. Andrew was such a boy, so 
open and frank and generously careless ; one could 
call up no sympathy for tailor or bootmaker at the 
sight of that merry face. 

At the first it seemed as if Mr. Musgrave’s pre- 
diction was actually to be fulfilled. He went down 
one night with Conway to the Weekly Record office, 
"as a matter of curiosity,” he said, and rendering 
the editor an opportune service by a rapid translation 
that was needed, he earned a small sum thereby. 
The incident enlivened him ; he felt that he was a 
bread-winner, and had an excuse for spending a 
week making no further effort toward self-support. 
It was true, as he said, that until he could furnish 
letters and credentials such efforts were useless, and 
the papers were long in coming. His friends did 


The Black Lamb 


149 


what they could for him. They presented him to 
Mr. Axenard, who, however, quite refused to do any- 
thing for him until he had proper testimonials, and 
they took him to the Forbes’ to dine. Noel recog- 
nized in the invitation an implied apology for Forbes's 
doubts on the night of his visit, and made his 
greeting heartier than usual. Andrew was pleased 
with everything, with Lyndon, of whom he seemed 
to think better than at first, with Mrs. Forbes, who 
was an elderly and moderated edition of her son, 
and superlatively with Marion. That young lady, 
in her pretty frock, her hair twisted in a red-gold 
coil, was the embodiment of graciousness to all 
three. She directed her attentions chiefly to Jack 
and Andrew, leaving Noel to chat undisturbed 
with his hostess and Philippa Axenard. She could 
hardly have pleased him better, although under the 
mask of his face he studied Philippa, quite aware, 
in that intuitive perception of his, that behind her 
reserve she was observing him. Their discourse 
was guarded, quite different from the night when 
he had spoken his naked heart to her and she had 
well-nigh wept for sympathy. To-night she seemed 
more than usually cold, Noel was more than 
usually impenetrable, yet they were oddly well 
satisfied with each other. 

'"That girl is so restful,” he thought, examining 
the delicate oval of her face, "she is so absolute a 
lady.” 


13^ 


1^0 


The Black Lamb 


A curious morbid man/’ she thought, watch- 
ing the smile flame up into his lips and eyes and go 
out, leaving his face expressionless. ''Yet how 
much he has" seen, and how well he has seen it !” 
Then their eyes would meet and pause, baffling 
each other, yet so thoroughly in the spirit of friend- 
ship that neither felt a hint of embarrassment. 

The young, Englishman made a very favorable im- 
pression. He was all deference, and blunt honesty, 
and admiration. He talked and laughed with charm- 
ing ease and simplicity, made instant friends with all, 
and joined with interest in the search for a diamond 
clasp which Miss Axenard dropped as she was 
leaving. He got under tables and chairs, and held a 
candle to the floor with the most untiring assiduity. 

Marion declared him "almost as nice as Mr. 
Sartoris,” and he was loud in her praise as they 
walked home. 

" Are all New York girls like that?” in a tone of 
such anticipative curiosity that his friends laughed. 

" Not as nice,” said Jack. 

"We’re not the right sort to ask,” Noel replied ; 
"but I don’t believe they’re all as pretty. Miss 
Forbes is a designer, you know. She pays for the 
little fellow's schooling and dresses herself on 
what she makes.” 

"Fancy!” exclaimed Andrew, " a girl like that ! 
Now at home she’d have a season and make a match, 
1 don’t doubt. Why, if she had a clever mother. 


The Black Lamb ' 15 1 

she might hook an earl even, — she’s quite good 
looking enough.” 

It was on the following evening that Andrew, 
coming into the room, asked Noel for a loan of five 
dollars. Noel had come in late and tired. He had 
been working hard, and the dinner at the Forbes’ 
was his first break for some time. Jack had sub- 
sided into a book, but his lay unopened on his knee. 

Five dollars?” he answered to Andrew’s ques- 
tion. "'Oh, yes, of course, Musgrave. Want it 
now? It’s in my room on the bureau.” 

" To-morrow will do,” said Andrew ; " but I do 
want a sheet of letter-paper, old fellow.” 

jack looked up. "" There’s some in the desk. 
What are you going to do, Andy ?” 

"I’m going to write home a masterpiece of 
pathos,” said Andrew, tugging at the desk-lid. 
" Mother didn’t take any notice of my last. 
This time it will be a marvel of entreaty and de- 
spair. She ought to send me something — it’s two 
months since her last check.” He opened the 
desk and, burrowing in its contents, extracted 
writing-paper and envelopes. In doing so a mass 
of material scattered and fell, bills, letters, and 
photographs, at Andrew’s feet. He picked therq 
all up, and was in the act of stuffing them back 
again when one of the photographs caught his eye. 
He laid down the rest deliberately and took it to 
the table, where he examined it beneath the light, 


152 


The Black Lamb 


Twas an old-fashioned photograph of a woman 
holding a little child, with the name ''Adele B. 
Conway” written slantwise across the card-board. 
'' Who is this?” he asked, slowly. 

Noel, who was reading, lifted his head and glanced 
at the photograph Andrew held toward him. His 
face hardened all over. ''That is my mother,” he 
answered, and went on reading. 

Andrew bent forward and looked at him, and 
then back again at the photograph. There was an 
odd surprise in his eye. 

"Dead, of course?” he remarked, after a pause. 

" No, — alive.” 

"Divorced perhaps?” 

"No.” 

" Oh, married again ?” hazarded Andrew. 

"Exactly,” said Noel, turning a leaf. ‘'She is 
now, I believe. Lady LeBreton, of Surrey.” 

Andrew looked once more at the photograph, at 
Noel elaborately unconscious, at jack deep in his 
book and heedless of the scene. Then he put the 
picture back, whistling softly to himself, got paper, 
pens, and ink, and sat down to write, his eyes 
glittering. His letter was long and seemed to cause 
him some meditation to compose. Once or twice 
he looked up suddenly with suspicion and startled 
side-glances, but he did not speak until the last 
scratch-scratch of his pen as it wrote the ad- 
dress. 


The Black Lamb 


153 

"Ms it finished?'’ asked Jack, looking up and 
yawning. 

"" It is finished,” replied Andrew, and he laughed, 
a sudden, hearty peal. If s a masterpiece, jack, 

a masterpiece, and it means fifty pounds at the very 
least.” 

This is what Andrew wrote : 

""My dearest Mother, — When you wrote with 
your last check that you would never send me 
another, you did not, I am sure, realize what a very 
little is one hundred dollars in this expensive coun- 
try. The railroad journey to New York took all of 
it, as I wrote you, and I landed here without a dime. 
I am most awfully sorry to have to ask you again, 
but one must live, and while I hope and expect 
soon to get a start here, I must have something 
meanwhile. You know if s of no use applying to 
the governor ; he never cared a rap for me from the 
time 1 was a little motherless child ; no one ever 
cared about me but you, who have been all and 
more to me than my own mother, so you are 
now my only help. I told you about my arrival 
here and the fellows that took me in, but I did not 
tell you what I now know, namely, that one of 
them is your son, — Noel Conway ; and a very queer 
fish he is too, although a pretty decent fellow for 
all his outlandish ideas. He hardly does you credit, 
mamma dear. Unfortunately, there’s no doubt at 


154 


The Black Lamb 


all about who he is, for he owns a photograph of 
you with your signature across it, and between the 
child on your lap and the grown man there is a 
very damning appearance of likeness. 

I don’t quite know what the governor would say 
to this young man, and of course so long as you 
stick by me I shall tell no tales. But you must 
remember that I am still a LeBreton, although I do 
not use the name, and the family honor rests in my 
hands as fully as in George’s. In fact, I am not sure 
that it is not my bounden duty, considering the 
circumstances, to write Sir Robert what I know ; 
but after all, as long as you are kind as heretofore, my 
love to you outweighs the duty to a father who 
shows himself so little anxious about my welfare. 
How it is consistent with his principles to leave me 
without funds in this beastly country I cannot 
understand. I do not wish to be unpleasant over 
this business, dear mamma, but you know it costs 
to live. I hope you are well, and that George’s baby 
is as healthy as of course it ought to be to keep 
me out of LeBreton Park. 

Always your affectionate 

Andrew. 

‘‘Nurse Musgrave will hand you this letter as 
usual. 


“A.” 


The Black Lamb 


155 


A fortnight later a letter with an English stamp 
lay on the table. Andrew picked it up, the queerest 
look of mischief snapping in his blue eyes. 

‘"You see,’' he cried, gayly, "'my eloquence 
bears fruit ! Mamma is melted at last ! I wonder 
how much is inside?” 

" Humph ! Perhaps there’s nothing,” said Jack. 

"Oh, no fear of that,” Andrew declared, con- 
fidently. He tore the letter open and drew out a 
slip of paper, with which he pirouetted about the 
room. It was a Bank of England note for fifty 
pounds. 

"I knew she could not resist that last pathetic 
stroke !” he cried, waving his prize. " I think I 
shall have to go into literature.” 





CHAPTER XIII. 


I wander with thee, harmless and thy friend : 
Thou see’st mine eyes, their gaze is hard to mend ; 

I see thine eyes, and lo ! thy secret sin 
Is in my hand, and in my hand thine end ! 


As the spring grew, the intimacy between Rod- 
erick Merchant and Clement Frey became more 
close and remarkable. It was noticed abroad, 
spoken of and commented on ; not so much Frey’s 
liking for the society of the unintellectual and 
coarse-fibred Englishman, as the Englishman’s pref- 
erence for the very uninspired and barren company 
of the author. What the one, who had seen the 
world through a lens of his own magnifying, had 
plunged and waded in the floods of life deeper, and 
with more unprincipled zest than most, could find 
in the dainty littleness, the spasmodic energy of the 
man-of-letters, was a question that puzzled many 
an acquaintance. 

Merchant, it was allowed, had gone the pace. 
He had a glib familiarity with race-track methods, a 
damning comprehension of all games of chance, 
the cold eye and boisterous distrust of manner that 
stamp a certain type of adventurer. Not that he 
was Jess well received in the society for which his 
156 


The Black Lamb 


157 


letters sponsored him, because of these truths. 
Men spoke of him with a nod and wink, as one to 
whom, at least, no American vice was new, yet 
no man would have been able to back these insinu- 
ations with cold fact. 

His manner was suaver than that of the average 
Briton, in conversation his tongue raced neck-and- 
neck with the freest, his dress and bearing in club- 
or ball-room were quite '"tolerable and not to 
be endured and to women he showed deference 
and a plenitude of compliment. No stranger with 
the eye of New York on him seeking for offence 
could have borne himself more unexceptionably. 
Yet, marking his broad pale face above the shining 
oval of his shirt, the black, blank eyes, the mouth 
at whose corners nervous wrinkles had seamed 
themselves, the dead black-and-whiteness of the 
man’s figure — marking these no woman had ever 
failed to ask what he was, and that with a secret 
quiver of the soul. Men were much less sensitive. 

His face and Frey’s, in mere words of description 
so alike, furnished a significant contrast. They 
were always together, the blank, sinister advent- 
urer, the pasty, featureless author; the eyes that 
saw nothing save a horror of their own, the eyes 
that saw everything, and above, and below, and 
behind everything. The broad paleness of Mer- 
chant’s countenance, marked by a jet-black lock on 
the forehead, went down Broadway and up Fifth 
14 


The Black Lamb 


138 

Avenue in continual company with the healthy 
drab of Frey’s, whose mouse-colored hair and lack 
of beard gave his face a curious colorless quality, 
while his friend resembled a pen-and-ink drawing. 
They went to club, theatre, and opera together, — 
in ball-rooms stood side by side, smiling, — a critical 
pair, and whispering a word into each other’s ear. 
Nor was this intimacy apparent only in public places 
or before an audience. It was often told how a 
chance visitor on either would find the two to- 
gether, for the most part silent, yet evidently gain- 
ing solace from mutual presence. The thing be- 
came a matter-of-course to their segment of the 
social circle, and no one invited Merchant without 
Frey, and seldom Frey without Merchant. 

Philippa saw the whole, and marvelled privately. 
It was like and yet unlike Clement Frey. He rarely 
took so much interest in a person, and yet how 
often before had she seen him on the trail of a plot, 
like a hound following the doublings and windings; 
and, if this indeed was his intention, there was 
little escape for the prey. When she had recoiled 
with distaste from the first story of his suspicion, 
she had but expressed a momentary feeling that had 
been replaced by one of unwilling interest. She 
was conscious of a half-excitement, as one who 
watched the game from a distance, yet understood 
its meaning. When the intimacy between the two 
was commented on in her presence, she would feel 


The Black Lamb 


59 


a thrill I could an’ if I would ” and yet fore- 

bore. Yet, withal, Frey did not gain by it in her 
estimation. If it was a game, if the friendship was 
false and the implied liking a snare, how treacherous 
a part he played in the drama ! She almost fancied 
it argued a callous brutality in his nature — although 
a certain phase of the artistic sense readily accounted 
for the whole. What was man or woman to 
Clement Frey in comparison with his need in the 
cause of literature ? She never met him that she 
did not long to ask, ''Have you found?” and yet 
by tacit consent they avoided the subject. The 
Axenards did not fancy Merchant, and Merchant 
now had footing in more golden mansions than the 
Axenards. In this manner Frey likewise saw less 
of them, and Mrs. Axenard was quick to note that 
when he did come it was to see her daughter. 
Being a wise woman she said nothing, and Philippa 
was prevented by instinctive feeling from confiding 
the story to her. 

One evening, a few days after dining at the 
Forbes’s, Philippa made ready to go to her aunt’s 
box at the opera. Mrs. Gregory Axenard was 
always lamenting her handsome niece’s indifference 
to society as society, the quiet of her life, her dis- 
taste for the blare of trumpets going on around her. 
She was continually urged by her aunt to do this 
or that; and Mrs. Axenard being herself what 
Clement Frey called a " twenty-horse-power 


i6o The Black Lamb 

v/oman/’ compounded of nerves and energy, was 
contemptuous of Philippa’s frequent refusal. Never- 
theless, Philippa did not suffer in comparison, be- 
cause her life flowed in a gentler current on this 
special evening. She was feeling and looking re- 
markably well, the clear yellow of her frock ad- 
mirably suited her pale skin and red-brown hair. 
The smooth oval of her face, serene and tender, 
formed a startling contrast to the faces all about her, 
— faces young and old, haggard and bold, beautiful 
and animal, or tense, and lined and drawn. There 
was a tint of color in Philippa’s cheek, her move- 
ments were deliberate and graceful. Lookers-on 
said that Miss Axenard was "'stately,” and won- 
dered if she really was going to marry the brilliant 
young author just entering the box behind her. 

Philippa had been surveying the house with the 
feeling that always came to her in fashionable 
crowds ; that it was a brilliant, impossible .scene, 
from which her life was mercifully removed as far 
as from that other brilliant and impossible scene 
represented on the stage. It was a Venusberg of 
many goddesses and Tannhaeusers. Her aunt sat 
well forward in the box sweeping the house with 
her glass. She found Wagner heavy, and had in- 
vited Philippa out of a dim idea of compensation to 
the master. If Wagner did not please her, it was 
well he should please somebody in the party. The 
curtain fell on the first act, and Philippa leaned 


The Black Lamb i6i 

forward to dap her loudest, when a voice said in 
her ear : 

'^How do you do? How can you clap such 
stuff?” 

She turned, and saw Mr. Merchant bending over 
her with a challenging smile. 

You evidently wish to draw me into argu- 
ment,” she replied smilingly, offering him her 
hand. 

""On the contrary, I wanted to reprove you,” he 
answered ; ""to like German opera is such a 
mistake.” 

"" 1 did not know you were so great a musician,” 
said Philippa, leaning back in her chair ; "" 1 fancied 
you were only a ” 

"" A what ?” 

""A moralist.” She spoke the word slowly, 
almost reflectively. Merchant started a little, and 
drew his brows together. 

"" You must have been hearing terrible things of 
me,” he said, lightly. ""1 had rather almost that 
you thought 1 liked German opera.” 

"" If you do not, why do you come ?” said Philippa, 
serenely. Merchant shrugged his shoulders, and 
made a little well-bred gesture toward the par- 
terre. 

"" 1 came to see the ladies, not of the opera but 
of the audience,” he said ; 1 wanted to be dazzled, 

and 1 am.” 
i 


14* 


The Black Lamb 


163 

"'Then Miss Axenard's conversation must be 
brighter than the electric lights," said Clement Frey, 
shaking hands with Philippa. Why do they keep 
the place so dark do you suppose ? Something 
must be the matter with the dynamos." 

Merchant rose, yielding him the place, and going 
forward began to talk to Mrs. Axenard. Clement 
Frey sat down beside Philippa and surveyed her 
with approval. 

And how are you ?" he said ; I haven’t seen 
you — I mean 1 haven’t heard you — for a month of 
Sundays." 

Philippa put her fan before her lips and spoke 
behind it, Andrew Musgrave is in New York," 
she said, very low, yet laying no stress of accent on 
the words. He is staying with two friends of his ; 
I met him last week." 

Clement Frey laid his arm lazily on the rail of the 
box, and twisted his position a little nearer. To 
see his face one would have said that he was talking 
about the weather. 

''Did you tell him?" he asked, lowering his 
voice, and jerking his head in the direction of Mer- 
chant’s back. 

"No,” said Philippa, " I wanted to speak to you 
first." 

" You are the only sensible woman 1 ever met 1" 
breathed Frey, fervently. 

"And you are taking to compliments 1" she cried. 


The Black Lamb 


163 

laughing, and speaking quite loud again, for Mer- 
chant had half turned his head in their direction. 

Don’t mention it, will you?” Frey said, to the 
outside world indicating a bediamoned dowager in 
an opposite box. It might spoil everything. 
Who’s he with r 

‘'Jack Sartoris and his friend,” and Philippa 
colored a little at the remembrance of one of Mr. 
Frey’s remarks. But he had quite forgotten it. 

“Then he’s as safe as the Bastille. We’re not 
much further. Miss Axenard. No proofs, but 
they’re coming.” He was settling his boutonniere, 
and speaking with his head down ; “ and, if I’m not 
mistaken, it’s a bigger thing than we thought.” 

“Oh, but Mr. Frey, it is so treacherous!” said 
Philippa ; “ is it not Mr. Merchant?” she continued 
leaning forward, as her aunt looked toward them. 

“ Isn’t what treacherous?” asked Merchant, with 
his pale smile. 

“Taking advantage of a silly old man, and lead- 
ing him on,” said Philippa, smiling composedly. 

“ I’ve been telling Miss Axenard about old Smith 
at the club,” chimed in Frey, at which Merchant 
laughed, and the anecdote had to be rehearsed for 
Mrs. Axenard’s benefit. The curtain went up in 
the middle of it, however, for which Frey rendered 
thanks. 

“You’re an angel!” he whispered, enthusiasti- 
cally, as she settled back to listen. Merchant heard 


164 The Black Lamb 

the words, and looked at his friend with an amused, 
significant smile. 

Hush V said Philippa, cautiously, as soon as his 
eyes once more turned away ; you’re very clever, 
but you’re not quite daring enough, Mr. Frey !” 

That he should have chosen her as the confidante 
of such a secret was odd enough ; that she should 
really have enjoyed the position was almost as 
curious. According to all standards, moral and 
social, she should have been horrified, she should 
never have lent herself to the position of amateur 
detective for an instant. But Philippa owned a 
slice of feminine curiosity, and, although it did not 
often manifest itself, a feminine love of excitement. 
She could not feel any pity for Merchant, if indeed 
he was in danger ; his fate was utterly indifferent 
to her as his presence was repugnant, for she both 
distrusted and disliked him. At first, and at bottom 
always she felt that Frey’s story” was being pur- 
sued at some loss of personal dignity, — yet this 
sentiment often paled beside her interest in the 
chase. Her pulse beat a little faster as she looked 
at him and at Merchant, and she felt as one who 
watches a street fight from the safe side of the win- 
dow-pane. The feeling was not commendable, 
perhaps, but Philippa was no saint ; nor was she, 
for all her calm, a negative character. Yet, as she 
sat there, weaving the music with her thoughts, 
she felt it her duty to enter a form of protest. Her 


The Black Lamb 


63 


opportunity came at the end of the second act, 
when Frey asked her to walk with him in the lobby. 
Once out of hearing of Merchant, his thanks grew 
voluble. 

Mr. Frey," said Philippa, stemming them, 'Mo 
you think all this is exactly fair? Everybody is 
talking of your intimacy with this man ; you seem 
inseparable, yet in truth you are simply entrapping 
him !" 

" But the story," answered Frey, surprised ; 
" how could I do otherwise ? It’s only in that form 
of intercourse that I could discover anything !" 

"It’s not my place to reprove you," said she, 
puzzled, "but — isn’t it — is it exactly honorable, 
I mean — to be so friendly ?’" 

"There isn’t a question of friendship between 
us," answered Frey, a little stiffly ; "lam clinging 
to the fellow for dear life, that’s all. Oh, no, don’t 
waste pity on Merchant ! What I have found out 
during this last month hasn’t added to my respect 
for him, even if it hasn’t given me proofs that he is 
what I suspect. I am tracking him like a dog, and 
I don’t say it to anyone else — possibly I’m a fool to 
say it to you." 

" Please don’t be angry," she cried, brightly, " I 
am really very much interested. 1 only wanted to 
be quite sure on your account." 

Frey smiled on her with renewed good-humor. 
"1 can’t quarrel you” he said, significantly. 


The Black Lamb 


1 66 

There’s not another woman in New York I could 
have told it to. But I assure you it’s all right. He’s 
won money, and he's borrowed it. When a man 
begins to borrow you can have him, if you’re 
sharp enough.” 

They were talking in subdued, but not unnatu- 
rally lowered, voices, and Philippa suddenly realized 
it with a shock, as she glanced at the throng in the 
corridor. 

'M’m afraid we’ve been very imprudent!” she 
said, whispering. There are so many people. I 
quite forgot that we might be overheard.” 

Not a chance of it,” said Frey, composedly ; a 
crowd is the safest place in the world to talk in. 
Have you caught any one else’s conversation ? Of 
course not. Anybody would have difficulty in 
separating our voices from the general hum, even 
if they cared to, which they don’t, of course.” 

Have you discovered anything?” she pursued, 
glancing about her and not wholly reassured. 

Nothing definite. Gordon has disappeared. 
Quite vanished since he landed at Southampton, — 
that’s curious, like the Princess in the fairy-book, 
you know. And he has quarrelled with Musgrave ; 
he won’t tell me why.” 

Is that ?” 

Yes.” Frey could never let any one else state 
his reasons. I don’t want them to meet till I'm 
ready. If he is with that Buddhist youth you 


The Black Lamb 


167 


affect, he is not any more likely to run across Mer- 
chant, although they are in the same city, than if 
he had remained in Colorado/' 

They may meet in the street." 

'' Merchant will cut him if they do." 

'' And how long," said Philippa, slowly, is this 
going on ?" 

Till I’m quite ready to have it stop," replied 
the author, bowing to an acquaintance. When 
my evidence is all collected, and my proofs are 
complete (you see the ' if is changed to a ' when’), 
I shall spring the mine and arrange the denouement, 
like Monte Cristo, artistically." 

But will that be soon ?" she persisted, as they 
turned toward the box again. 

'Mt depends. I’m in no hurry. A hurried 
climax is bad art, and then the fun’s over so 
soon." 

"‘You remember that Monte Cristo acknowl- 
edged his mistake in the end ?’’ 

“Yes, but he was a Frenchman," and Clement 
Frey smiled, secure in the unassailable inaptitude of 
his repartee. 

She looked at him with mixed feelings. To him 
the thing was “ fun ;’’ a chase to be prolonged and 
relished. To the figure whose elbow touched his 
what was it ? She did not like to think. 

“ Mother, 1 don’t think 1 admire the literary char- 
acter," she declared that night, as she brushed her 


68 


The Black Lamb 


hair before the mirror, "'at least, not as much as 
some others/' 

''What, for instance?" her mother inquired, 
from the next room. 

"Well, the speculative and philosophical," she 
said, dreamily. Her dark hair fell softly about her, 
as she stared in the glass. "To-morrow is Sun- 
day," she thought, "I wonder if he will come 
to-morrow ?" 


CHAPTER XIV. 


In the dark shrine the bronze God sits, arrayed 
In champak garlands ; by his feet are laid 
Caskets of sandal, and for offerings 
Turquoise and jasper, emerald and Jade. 

It was hard to realize that the eventful winter 
was really over. A few weeks of rain and wind, 
then a sudden powdering of yellow on the trees 
in Central Park, fresh odors in the air, new potency 
in the radiant yellow sunbeams. And before the 
sweetness of that time had fairly worn into the 
soul, behold, it was summer in the city, the trees 
were clothed and vivid, there were open cars, a 
blaze of sun, and a sudden irruption of storm- 
doors on Fifth Avenue like an epidemic. 

The Axenards went out of town as the first 
country violets came in ; but the Forbes stayed on 
Lyndon’s account until his annual holiday in Au- 
gust. Mr. Merchant, accompanied by the ever- 
faithful Frey, departed for various watering-places, 
and our trio were left to pursue the even tenor of 
their way through blank days and uncomfortable 
nights. It was now they felt most strongly the 
change in their condition. Up to this time they had 
not experienced any material hardship ; novelty and 
15 169 


H 


170 


The Black Lamb 


the tide of business kept them from making contrasts, 
but now, when the pavements were baked, and the 
air brought no refreshment, they felt poor indeed. 
Work was not less exacting than if it had been 
December. Jack found that sales were made and 
recorded without reference to the thermometer, 
and Noel that things would happen that expected 
to be noticed in the paper. 

In June, while the Axenards were in Long Island, 
the Sundays spent with them sweetened the torrid 
weeks. Jack sat on the piazza with Mrs. Axenard, 
never weary of dwelling with her on dear past 
days, his parents, his boyhood, the friendships and 
happenings of vanished times. Under the spread 
arms of cool oaks and beeches Noel and Philippa 
wandered and chatted, alternating the parts of 
teacher and pupil. When the young man held the 
superior place the talk often grew deep, of provi- 
dence, foreknowledge, will, and fate,” of occult- 
ism, and adeptship, and of the spirit world. That 
neither arrived at a conclusion on these topics was 
no dampener to their ardor in pursuing them. 
But when Philippa taught and Noel listened, having 
a need for such teaching, more simple and homely 
questions were discussed, — the tendernesses of life. 

Noel, for all his metaphysics, was an humble boy ; 
he knew his faults, he understood what those 
meant who called him 'impossible.” The load 
of his own egotism lay heavy on him and bore him 


The Black Lamb 


7 


down to despondency. You see I’m so con- 
foundedly morbid and selfish,” he told her once. 

I cannot take the first step toward the philosophi- 
cal life without throwing off this deadly burden 
of myself. It stands in my way, — it meets me at 
every corner.” 

""You will throw it off some day in one great 
sacrifice,” she replied, hesitating a little, ""and then 
— I hope it will not be wholly for philosophy.” 

It was curious that it never entered his head to fall 
in love with her. Their acquaintance had been from 
the first without the constraint of surprise ; plain 
and open, like the good-fellowship of man with 
man, untinged by romance or the slightest mutual 
deception. Philippa valued this man’s confidence, 
and she was cleverly tactful in securing it. She 
was his very good comrade, quick, sympathetic, 
easy to confide in. He did not like girls, yet could 
not have told you the difference between "" girls” and 
Philippa, and in this lay his inconsistency. Say 
that he was shy, and that she never frightened 
him ; that she never appropriated him, or called 
upon him for a man’s services to a woman, or put 
any artificiality in their relations, and that he would 
never have recognized the person who bore her 
name to Clement Frey, — these are some of the 
reasons why their conversations were never tinged 
with self-distrust. 

At the end of June the Axenards removed to Mount 


172 


The Black Lamb 


Desert and the last solace of the left-behind was 
taken. They were thrown wholly upon the Forbes 
household for consolation, and scarcely a free 
evening came that did not find them there. The 
little apartment was always cool, and fragrant, and 
softly lighted. There were couches of wicker for 
the weary, and tall tumblers of lemonade with ice 
tinkling against the sides, and Lyndon with his 
energy unabated by any heat, and Marion in her 
white gown moving softly in and out, the lamplight 
on her burnished coils of hair. Once, as Jack was 
dwelling on her bent head with an intensity of 
gaze he hardly realized, she caught his eye and 
blushed. Upon which Andrew made a sudden 
impatient movement, and shot jack a quick needle- 
like glance from his candid eyes. 

Mr. Musgrave, be it said to his credit, was daunted 
by no heat and soured by no dust and drought. 
He still carried on his search for work ; that is, he 
departed in the early morning and returned at night 
with the same good-humored smile and the same his- 
tory of failure. His credentials, which were full and 
most satisfactory (so he told his friends), had been 
despatched from the other side, but had unhappily 
been lost in the mail, and he never received them. 
Any one else, his comrades told each other admir- 
ingly, would be disheartened or -cast down by such 
reverses, but Andrew was never out of temper, 
was never depressed, and was never discouraged. 


The Black Lamb 


73 


Meanwhile, he subsisted on money sent him at 
irregular intervals from home ; his mother was very 
generous, and her supplies, although uncertain, were 
more frequent than many would have supposed. 
When a longer interval than usual passed between 
remittances he would borrow a dollar or so, or 
return with a bill earned in some hap-hazard fashion 
that he never seemed able to repeat. His debts 
toward his friends had mounted by this time to a 
considerable sum, and Andrew often spoke of it 
regretfully, apologetically even. 'Mt’s beastly to 
borrow of you fellows ; I hate to do it, and wouldn’t 
if I wasn’t sure to pay it back the moment I get 
anything to do. But I feel badly about it, — I do 
really. You’ve done quite enough, — taking me in 
and all that, — and I’m going to try So-and-so to- 
morrow, he said he might hear of something.” 

When to-morrow came he would set forth, to 
return at dark the inevitable failure, and the almost 
as inevitable request for a small loan. Had he been 
any other human being but just Andrew Musgrave, 
happy-go-lucky and good-humored, his friends 
would certainly have resented this state of affairs. 
But he was so charming, so amiable, his laugh so 
cheery, his simplicity so childlike and winning, 
that they spoke of his imprudence with a laugh, of 
his carelessness with affection, and felt his mere 
presence a compensation for whatever he might 
choose to borrow or they to lend. Who could be 
15* 


174 


The Black Lamb 


angry with Andrew ? If you called him scapegrace, 
it was with tenderness for his recklessness, with 
compassionate fondness for his very faults. He was 
generous and heedless (they said), time would cure 
these faults, and meanwhile he was so good a com- 
rade, so unselfish in the amenities of life ! 

must have brought you bad luck, fellows!” 
he would exclaim, troubled over their affairs as over 
his own ; never knew such men for losing things. 
Now Jack's lost those silver-mounted pistols of his 
father’s. 1 can’t find them for him anywhere 1” 

Jack’s carelessness might have been accounted for 
by the fact that he was exceedingly in love. Being 
a healthy youth as well as a busy one, he did not 
betray his state of mind by any of Rosalind’s tokens, 
but went about his affairs as usual, and his com- 
rades were unsuspicious. But poor Jack regretted 
his lost fortune as he had never yet regretted it, was 
much cast-down, and only comforted by a rise in his 
salary with which his diligence was rewarded. It 
was not enough, but still it heartened him wonder- 
fully, and at once impelled his steps toward Marion, 
to tell her the good news. 

Marion was sympathetic to a most satisfying 
degree, and Jack’s heart was filled with delight at 
her reception of him and her genuine interest in his 
news. He had suspected that Andrew stood a little 
in his light, but on that subject Marion was entirely 
non-committal. She would not give an opinion of 


The Black Lamb 


175 


Mr. Musgrave. Her brother, however, having no 
such scruples, was voluble on the subject and 
strong in disapproval. 

"'Musgrave has just been here,’’ he remarked, 
jerking his chair about. " Has he found anything 
to do yet ?” 

" Not yet. His letters from home were lost in 
the mails, and so far have not turned up : such a 
pity !” 

" Well, how does he live?” said Forbes, sharply. 
" Surely you don’t ” 

" Oh, no !” jack interrupted him eagerly ; " his 
mother’s very generous to him. He gets checks 
from home fairly regularly.” 

"He seems very light-hearted about himself,” 
commented Marion. She was bending over her 
drawing-board, putting the final touches to a delicate 
design. 

"I confess that I don’t quite understand him,” 
Lyndon said, bluntly enough. "He’s too light- 
hearted entirely. He will have to get something to 
do, you know, even if it is breaking paving-stone 
at the head of a gang.” 

"There’s no harm in Andrew,” and jack grew 
warm in his friend’s defence. 

"I grant you that he’s careless and imprudent, 
but one must remember how he was brought up. 
This sort of trouble is entirely new to him.” 

"It’s new to you and Conway,” replied Forbes, 


The Black Lamb 


176 

and his sister nodded at him in approval, yet you 
have turned to work all right.” 

'^But Andrew’s different, — in many ways he is 
nothing but a boy. Then he’s so generous, — he 
can’t bear to say no, and of course' that costs.” 

The brother and sister kept silence. Marion 
because she admired Jack for his championship, 
Lyndon because he feared to offend. There was 
nothing for it but to change the subject, as even 
Forbes saw the tactlessness of a further protest. 

One rainy Saturday afternoon in late July, Noel, 
who had a free hour or two until evening, saw by 
the paper that the Rev. Sri Gautama, of Benares, was 
to lecture on the Brotherhood in Ceylon. He went 
at once. The very names buzzed in his head, the 
damp pavements — it had been raining — seemed to 
change to baked brown earth, the clang of the 
cable-car into the conch-shell of the temple, and in 
the sunshine walked the row of yellow-clad, bare- 
shouldered priests, two by two, into the dark, cool 
shrine beyond. The picture stood out vivid and 
clear ; he could almost smell the Champak blossoms ; 
the peace of the whole thing seemed to suffuse him, 
and his eyes grew dreamy and abstract. The long- 
ing for it, that life he yearned to lead, tugged at his 
heart as he walked onward with bent head. So he 
went in to hear the lecture, and the mild-eyed Pun- 
dit had at least one attentive listener. 

The lecture proved most interesting. The Pun- 


The Black Lamb 


177 


dit and his descriptions revolved pleasantly in Noel’s 
mind as he came out into the street. It was still 
quite light, and clearing into a multi-colored sun- 
set, as he reached home, mounted the stairs, and 
opened the door of his room. Then he stood for 
a second on the threshold. The window was 
open, the room full of golden, western light. 
Bending over an open bureau-drawer stood Andrew 
Musgrave, so intent on his occupation that he had 
not heard the mounting steps nor the opening of 
the door. He was ferreting in the drawer much 
in the manner of a fox-terrier at a hole, tossing the 
contents about in a feverish search. The sight was 
startling. 

Why, Andy !” Noel cried, when his amazement 
gave him voice. Andrew turned, violently upset- 
ting a photograph that fell to the ground with a 
clatter. 

'^Oh, is that you?” he said, smiling and breathing 
hard. 'M've been hunting for a postage-stamp. 
Where do you keep them ?’* 


m 


CHAPTER XV. 


The yellow-robed, bronze-shouldered priests, whose fine 

Dark faces gleam, move onward to the shrine, 

With chelas following, contemplative, calm. 

What do I in this place when that is mine? 

While Clement Frey was paddling Miss Axenard 
over the turquoise-blue waters and in the spicy 
breezes of Frenchman’s Bay, the city was vibrating 
from murky hot to dusty hotter. The changes in 
the temperature were sometimes refreshing, but 
they were not stimulating. Our trio felt them 
keenly, grew irritable, and dragged : and even 
Andrew’s spirits showed a sign of flagging, he 
grumbled unreservedly at the climate, and at his 
fate. Perhaps he noticed the slight, the very slight, 
the delicately subtle shade that seemed to dim the 
confidence and good-fellowship of his companions. 

Noel had been both puzzled and troubled at the 
incident just described. The glib lie with which 
Musgrave met his unspoken accusation did not de- 
ceive him for . an instant, yet he would have been 
glad to let it do so. The very fluency was worse, 
to his thinking, than the mere lie. If Andrew 
wanted anything, why not ask for it ? Surely his 
comrades did not merit any double-dealing on his 
178 


The Black Lamb 


79 


part. Noel was forced to go back into moral analysis 
for an explanation. He tried to put two and two 
together, and sum a lack of moral courage in his 
friend’s past, which was constitutional weakness. 
Andrew was much of a child yet in many ways 
(this Noel knew), perhaps like a child when startled 
he turned involuntarily to falsehood. 

Whatever may have been the explanation, Noel 
had not been human to let it pass without its affect- 
ing his relation with the Englishman. He was no 
less loyal to him and hardly less fond, but there was 
a darkening of that open trust between them. He 
found himself weighing and measuring Andrew’s 
behavior in a more critical spirit, and at bottom 
awoke some dormant instinct of suspicion. But of 
this he was ashamed, and looked upon it as a 
mental fault of his own rather than as the effect of 
a cause. Jack, on his private part, had been quick 
to find that Andrew was frequent in his visits to the 
Forbes’s ; and although not jealous by nature began 
to think of him as a rival, and to treat him with per- 
fect good-nature, yet guardedly. 

In brief and plain, a very great change had taken 
place in the relations of the three since Andrew’s 
arrival in New York. At that time their trust in him 
had been boundless, their confidence absolute. They 
had rejoiced in his company, and for the privilege 
were willing to give even to the half of their king- 
dom. They had taken him in unquestioning, treated 


i8o The Black Lamb 

him without reserve, and given him share and share 
alike of their good or evil fortune. Now in August 
there came a difference, yet none could have told 
exactly what caused, or even what constituted it. 

Andrew was just the same, just as amiable, care- 
less, and cheerful; the fact that apparently they had 
changed and not he grieved his friends in their 
loyalty. 

Therefore, although they well knew they should 
miss him, they were secretly relieved when he one 
day announced that he was going to leave them. 

shall go to a place 1 know,'’ was all he said, 
when questioned as to his plans. don’t know 
how you fellows stand this heat. 1 can’t. Why 
don’t you come along ?” 

''Can’t just now,” said Noel, regretfully. 

"1 couldn’t leave the office with things where 
they are if it was twice as hot. WeVe got to stand 
it, old boy ; but there’s no reason why you should.” 

"Well, a check came from the mater to-day,” 
went on Andrew, smiling with pleasure ; "it’s little 
enough, but more than last time. If I stay on here 
I’ll be knocked up by the autumn, when I want to 
start work.” Andrew always spoke of work as 
though it was settled and awaiting him. His con- 
fidence in the future was unshaken by the truth 
that he stood no better chance of a livelihood now 
than he had done six months ago. " I shall pack 
up, and get me gone to cooler climes,” he said ; 


The Black Lamb 


i8i 


'' and I only wish you two could come with me. 
By the way, 1 picked up this to-day, — thought I’d 
see if Miss Forbes would accept it. It’s a trifle, but 
isn’t it pretty ?” 

He drew from his pocket a little hand-mirror set 
in a twisted frame of antique silver of a very grace- 
ful shape and pattern. Andrew admired his own 
yellow curls in it with naive vanity before handing 
it to Jack. That young gentleman, although wish- 
ing to be pleasant, was not proof against dislike of 
the arrangement, and was therefore tepid in his 
comments. Noel, however, admired the toy. 

Very pretty,” he remarked, handing it back to 
its owner. 

Andrew stretched out his hand to take it, and 
somehow between them it slipped, and broke into 
splinters of glass on the floor. Noel shuddered with 
a sudden backward movement. 

A bad oinen,” he whispered. 

Con, you’re too ridiculous !” cried Jack. 

Noel looked from one to the other, then he 
stooped and picked up the silver frame. His face 
had visibly paled and his lip twitched ; some stray 

emotion shook him. wonder ” he began, 

and then broke off. 

''Which of you dropped the thing?” asked Jack, 
lightly ; that’s the one to get the bad luck.” 

"It fell exactly between us,” Andrew made 
" But, of course, I don’t believe in it.” 

i6 


answer. 


The Black Lamb 


182 

I do/’ said Noel, throwing out his hand. You 
wait and see what will happen.” 

''You believe that bad luck will come of it?” 

"Certainly!” 

"I take the chances,” said Andrew, confidently, 
pocketing the mirror. "Your superstitions are 
such a queer streak in you. Con. You don’t strike 
anybody as a superstitious man.” 

" Nor does he strike the fellows at the office as a 
nervous chap,” put in Jack, quietly. " Yet he is — 
aren’t you? — awfully nervous.” 

Noel nodded ; he had not yet entirely regained 
composure, and his face was still cloudy. 

" I challenge bad luck !” cried Andrew, stretching 
his limbs. " Look at me ; I’m not nervous. The 
world is mine oyster, only 1 haven’t got an oyster- 
knife. Pooh ! 1 don’t believe in signs, and all that.” 

"The luck will come,” said Noel, half to him- 
self, " and probably when we are weakest to stand 
it. I’ve had a presentiment lately, and Musgrave’s 
in it, too. Andy, 1 wonder what you were in a 
former cycle? You’re such an animal.” 

" Thank you. How refreshingly frank ! But if 
you’re going into transmigration of souls, 1 had 
better get out. Oh, Con, Con, what a fellow you 
are 1 I wish 1 had you at home. You would be 
such a nut to crack for mother and George.” 

He went out, laughing, to make arrangements 
for his journey. At the last minute, the next day. 


The Black Lamb 


183 

he found himself short of funds ; borrowed twenty 
dollars from Jack with many protestations and 
declarations, thanked them both warmly with much 
incoherence of language, and departed, leaving a 
void not easily filled. Jack, whose every spare 
moment was spent with Marion, did not feel it so 
much, but Noel did. He fell into one of his old 
moods, — old because the active material life of the 
last months had necessarily driven him out of him- 
self. But now he became once more silent and 
dreamy, in a humor of blackness and meditation. 

He went about his work silent ; his eyes were 
turned in upon himself, his spirit seemed far from 
the material world. At home he smoked inces- 
santly and was speechless, his face grew grim and 
mask-like in its dark serenity. When he talked it 
was on topics deep and inscrutable, the occult world 
seemed to flit by his very elbow. Once before, 
when he had fallen upon such a mood, he had been 
sharply shaken back to life by Lyndon Forbes, who 
planted himself on the hearth-rug and contemplated 
the dreamer with so passionate an expression of 
interest and artistic delight that Noel had seen the 
clouds part under his feet, and had clapped earth 
very suddenly. But now Lyndon was afar, and 
Jack unobservant, there was none to heed his men- 
tal debauch, or to disturb it. 

He fell, poor boy, to dreaming about his mother, 
to long for her with an intensity of lonely desire, to 


1 84 


The Black Lamb 


long for the scenes of his childhood, the country of 
his birth. The city jarred on him ; he set himself 
to periods of studied contemplation ; for hours he 
sat immovable, his face like stone. To free his 
spirit, to give his soul wing among the upper 
regions, to reject and cast aside the material fetters 
of his life, these were his only desires. One night, 
when the leaven of the East seemed to work in him 
most strongly, he took a train, and getting out at a 
chance country station, wandered aimlessly in the 
fields. The night was blue, crowded with stars. 
Far behind shone the railroad-lights ; in front were 
the mere fields : there was a sense of infinite possi- 
bility, a glorious unrest. Noel set forth with a 
stride and a swing ; the dry stubble crisped and 
crackled under his feet. He made for a shadowy 
mass that widened into a grove of trees, and flung 
himself full length under their boundary of 
branches. Oh, the difference from the city, — the 
sweetness of the night ! Why make money, — why 
work ? A gypsy life among the hills, books and 
meditation by day, the expanded scroll of heaven 
by night, why not these? should soon be 
adept,” he thought, "Mf 1 dwelt on such skies as 
these.” 

The fancy pleased him, — in his present mood any 
pure fancy led him, — and throwing back his head 
he studied the stars. Not an air stirred the leaves, 
the fields lay before him shimmering like a sea, — 


The Black Lamb 


185 


a pale August moon rose over the trees looking like 
a nebula brighter than the rest. To his nostrils 
came the faint perfume of summer herbs, night- 
flowering blossoms, and his mind was filled with 
visions as a jar with wine. 

Sleep fell upon the dreamer like a garment laid 
lovingly over the shoulders, his head fell back on 
a cushion of soft grass. The night waxed and 
waned, the dawn crept up and put out the innu- 
merable eyes overhead, the dawn-breeze played 
about him. 

He awoke at sunrise, stiff and dew-drenched, but 
with a new peace. ‘*1 have been in Nirvana,” he 
thought, if it was only in sleep !” And he greeted 
Jack as one come back into the world. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


The pilgrim rests, where the sun rays aslant 
Fall on led camel and war elephant, 

And to his weary cheek there comes a breeze 
Blown ’thwart the Sultan’s gardens odorant. 

It must not be supposed that Philippa forgot her 
friends in town. She corresponded regularly with 
Marion, and there was almost always a postscript or 
an added word. '"Do you see anything of Mr. 
Sartoris or, "What are Jack Sartoris and Mr. Con- 
way doing ?” 

" Mr. Conway comes here very seldom,'’ Marion 
wrote, " and when he does come he sits in the cor- 
ner, smoking, and never says a word to anybody. 
He does not like me, and rarely condescends to 
honor me by his conversation. Mr. Sartoris comes 
here very often to see Lyndon," a phrase which did 
not delude Philippa a whit. 

" Noel Conway sent his remembrances to you," 
Marion wrote in a later letter. "He is such an 
uncanny creature. I feel that if I made the sign of 
the cross over him he would writhe and vanish ! I 
cannot make him out at all, but I am sure he likes 
you tremendously, Phil dear." 

Marion, in truth, had so nearly arranged her own 
1 86 


The Black Lamb 


187 


love-affair that she was inclined to match-making 
on behalf of her friend. Jack had not yet spoken, 
but it was not so hard to read jack’s eyes, and she 
knew what she should answer when the time came. 
Marion was a very human little person, very anx- 
ious to be happy and to give happiness. What did 
it matter if Jack was poor ? Had she not a talent ? 
could she not also work ? Surely, their life would 
be the freer, and she no drag on him. There was 
no possible obstacle to their marriage in Marion’s 
warm, loving heart. While he in fear and trem- 
bling was conjecturing his fate, she had in imag- 
ination papered and furnished their future home, 
somewhere, — very cheap, and went about with a 
mental vision of its interior. Jack on one side of 
the fireplace — for there must be a fireplace — and 
herself on the other, sewing or drawing. And 
supplementary to this blissful picture she had an- 
other of Philippa married to Noel — an idealistic 
vision which took no account of the Axenard 
family and their wealthy and respectable connec- 
tions — coming to dine with Jack and herself. Ah, 
it was charming ! 

Meanwhile, the only way to forward such a de- 
sirable state of things was to praise Philippa to 
Noel, who listened gladly to such praise, and to 
cherish his least word to send to Philippa. Poor 
little Marion would have been deeply hurt had any 
one suggested that she might be doing more harm 


The Black Lamb 


1 88 

than good by these devices, — that more young 
ladies than Miss Austen’s Emma had repented of 
such manipulations. She was so full of her own 
coming happiness, the blessing that some word of 
Jack’s was to shower on her, that her heart grew 
tender toward his friend, and she was anxious to 
manifest good-will. She either forgot or purposely 
overlooked the practical disadvantage of her scheme : 
the fact that the Axenards might not at all relish 
their daughter’s marriage to a man with little money, 
few prospects, and singular articles of belief. These 
things are interesting in a guest, but to most minds 
undesirable in a son-in-law. But Marion wrote 
Philippa long letters assailing Noel dextrously, and 
Philippa, quite blind to the trap, covered reams of 
paper in his defence, and oftentimes went about 
her day with a face stamped on her retina that was 
not to be found in Bar Harbor. She was, however, 
quite right in one of her assertions. It was cer- 
tainly a pity that the two were so unsociable, that 
they made so few friends, and mixed so little with 
their kind. At the start of their life in New York 
they had practically been strangers in the city ; six 
months later Lyndon Forbes was the sole new 
friend they had made out of the many with whom 
they had touched. This friendship, too, had been 
more of his seeking than of theirs. 

Their unsociable, self-sufficient tendency natu- 
rally kept the young men much out of the world. 


The Black Lamb 


189 

This was foolish and, had they known it, dangerous. 
After business hours they inhabited a world of 
their own, — an unhealthy place of residence, with 
oftentimes an exorbitant rent attached. So it is 
not hard to see why they never saw or heard of 
Merchant, why Andrew Musgrave's doings were 
never echoed to their ears when he was once out 
of their doors. 

Early in September Andrew turned up again, 
brown and cheerful, pleased to see his friends and 
full of commiseration for their lack of holiday. 

There wasn’t a chap at the sea-shore that could 
touch you two,” he said, sitting on the arm of Jack’s 
chair and patting him on the back with one of his 
childish, affectionate movements. They were all 
such jerky fellows, — strung on wires, — and the 
girls kept telling me how they loved ' dear old Eng- 
land,’ you know. I told them I’d found it dear 
enough, certainly.” He laughed, his jolly irresisti- 
ble peal, and his eyes twinkled at the recollection. 
Then he stretched himself out on the sofa, filled his 
pipe, and ran on for an hour telling his experiences 
and describing the people he had met, while his 
remarks were broken now and again by what the 
French would have called his good” laugh. Ah, it 
was pleasant to have Andrew back again ! 

And how have you come out in funds?” asked 
Noel. Andrew’s face clouded, he kicked the air 
dejectedly. 


190 The Black Lamb 

You fellows will think Tm awfully extrava- 
gant/’ he said, at length, but I haven’t come out 
very well, that’s a fact. I’ve about five dollars lef:, 
I think. But I was really economical, don’t you 
know, — I had a room at the very top of the hotel. 
Of course there were always things to do, picnics 
and all that, and unless the mother has a generous 
mood. I’ll be in a hole.” He pounded the sofa- 
cushion with a sullen expression that was new to 
him. His friends were silent ; it was significant 
that neither of them proffered a loan, yet they were 
sincerely sorry. Despair at his recklessness was 
soon swallowed up in sympathy for his distress, 
and when he announced that he was "'Done this 
time, and no mistake ; awfully down on my luck, 
fellows,” Jack proposed a visit to the Casino, where 
hot-weather amusement was in order. Andrew’s 
spirits were greatly raised by the performance, and 
they passed the evening gayly. 

Coming out of the theatre. Jack noticed an elderly 
man standing to one side of the crowd and ruefully 
examining the broken end of an old-fashioned chain 
from which the watch was missing. " If I could 
get a policeman,” he was repeating helplessly, " I 
might find it.” 

" Look at the old person,” said Jack ; " pick- 
pocket been at work there. There’s a policeman. 
Con ; riLwhistle him.” 

The gentleman who had lost his watch looked 


The Black Lamb 


191 

gratefully at Jack as the policeman made his way 
toward them through the crowd, and began to 
relate his misfortune in many sentences much inter- 
spersed with ejaculations. ''The fob-chain, as you 
see, is chased and very heavy. I may have jerked 
the watch out, letting it dangle, when,” with a sad 
look in the direction of a waist he could not see, 
"dear, dear, I should never notice it, — never.” 

" What is it?” asked Andrew, coming up behind. 

"Old gentleman’s pocket picked,” replied Jack. 
" Come along.” 

Andrew, however, would not come until, with 
much politeness, he had advised the old gentleman 
to inquire at the box-office and to put an advertise- 
ment in the morning’s paper. 

"It was a very valuable watch,” said the elderly 
gentleman; "a Swiss repeater, — one of the old- 
fashioned kind. Dear, dear, I wouldn’t lose it for 
the world ! Yes. Thank you very much.” 

The handsome young fellow, with his frank eyes 
and boyish face, struck the old gentleman very 
favorably. " Very polite boy that,” he thought, 
as he turned his steps toward the box-office to 
follow Andrew’s advice. "Unusually good man- 
ners; very polite indeed.” 

"What made you take all that trouble?” said 
Jack to Andrew as they walked toward home. 

"Oh, he looked like a jolly old chap,” said 
Andrew lightly, and Jack sighed as he thought of 


92 


The Black Lamb 


his chance with Marion against this irresistible, 
kindly nature. 

The friends kept silence on their homeward walk. 
Only Musgrave’s whistle, thin and cheery, warmed 
their hearts. When he said good-night and tumbled 
into bed, falling asleep like a child, they made ready 
for bed themselves, glad that he was there. The 
scene of the evening filled them both with kindly 
feeling toward their friend ; and Noel in particular 
took himself roundly to task for his previous suspi- 
cion. What if Andrew was not altogether truthful, 
was he singular in this respect ? And who could be 
a better comrade, so cheerful, so untiring, so ready 
with sympathy, so unfailing in good humor? 
What if he was in debt to them ? surely he paid it 
by his very presence I 

Noel lay awake, pondering these things, and 
envying Andrew his untroubled slumber. '' The 
sleep of the just, I suppose,” he thought, twisting 
restlessly, and then he, too, found oblivion. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A robber in a stream his finger-tips 
Laved and would drink, for at the moon’s eclipse 
He was a-weary with his bloody toil, 

But lo ! the draught turned bitter at his lips ! 


September brought no abatement of the murky, 
hot weather. Nevertheless the town seemed to 
wake up, men trod the streets more briskly, shops 
put new stock in their windows, the air had a re- 
newed liveliness. Since his second return Andrew 
began to indulge in longer absences from his 
lodging-place, sometimes remaining away for a 
couple of days at a time. His comrades questioned 
him once or twice, but getting little satisfaction, 
let the subject drop, and tried to feel wholly at ease 
about him and his doings, which they did not. He 
had asked to borrow as usual, and had seemed 
grieved and surprised when Noel told him, very 
kindly but very decidedly, that they had no more to 
lend, now or in the future. 

The truth was that Jack, contemplating an estab- 
lishment of his own, needed every cent of his salary, 
which was little enough, and Noel, to whom 
Andrew stood in debt to the tune of some hun- 

1 n 17 193 


194 


The Black Lamb 


dreds of dollars, realized that this sort of thing 
could not go on. He explained this to Musgrave, 
whose frankness made it a most displeasing task. 

Oh, yes, of course," he said, gloomily, ^"1 owe 
you a lot I know, and I hate to have to borrow of 
you, anyhow. I’ll have to get something. It’s all 
right, old fellow." 

But that he felt the change was evident. Later, 
as Noel found, he tried to borrow from Lyndon 
Forbes, who had nothing to lend and was quick to 
say so. After that experiment Andrew held his 
peace on the subject of his finances, but took to. 
those long absences which, though they made his 
company more valued when he bestowed it, gave 
Noel a vague and involuntary uneasiness. Some- 
times Andrew came home with money, and he had 
always a gay account to give of his luck in earning 
it. More often he dropped in upon them and 
turned out his empty pockets, laughing. The cares 
of existence pressed very lightly on him ; penniless 
or no, he was always ready for pleasure at his own 
or somebody else’s expense. About the middle of 
September occurred an encounter that bore some 
importance to his prospects. The three were 
taking a Sunday walk in the heat and dust down 
Fifth Avenue ; a disconsolate thoroughfare of blank 
doors and vacant windows. Andrew walked be- 
tween them, according to his habit, with a hand on 
the shoulder of each. He was in a particularly 


The Black Lamb 


195 

good humor, and whistled loud and clear out of 
the pure joy of his heart. 

As they were in the act of passing the Waldorf, 
a man hurried out into the street and walked 
rapidly a few paces ahead of them. Andrew’s 
whistle checked in the middle of a trill, for a second 
he was silent, then he plunged after the stranger 
with a shrill call : "'Merchant I I say. Merchant!” 

The man turned, facing him directly, but the 
friends noted that he did not hold out a hand in 
greeting, nor was his face, darkened by a scowl, 
pleasant to look upon. 

" So you are here, are you?” was what he said. 

"Got here last spring,” Andrew replied, beam- 
ing. " Awfully glad to see you, — ^jolly ! How long 
have you been in New York, old man 

His smiling face, alight with pleasure, formed a 
distinct contrast to the surly avoidance of his friend. 
Jack and Noel, undecided in the face of this en- 
counter how to bear themselves, stood hesitating a 
little way from the pair. 

"I’m in a hurry,” Merchant remarked, pulling out 
a watch. " I’ve a train to catch. Hope to see you 
later on, Musgrave.” He was walking on, but 
Andrew kept up with him, and the friends more 
slowly followed. "Are you stopping there?” 
Andrew asked, jerking his head in the direction of 
the hotel. " It you are. I’ll come in this evening. 
I’ve nothing to do.” 


196 The Black Lamb 

have an engagement/' growled Merchant, 
whose face bore a most disfiguring expression of 
ill humor. 

To-morrow, then," Andrew persisted; ''any- 
evening will suit me, but 1 want to see you." 

Merchant glanced at him sidewise, and seemed 
to hesitate. " Very well, to-morrow," he replied, 
walking fast, and left Andrew on the sidewalk 
without chance for a further word of farewell. 

"Low-bred cur!" said that young gentleman 
between his teeth, as he turned back to his com- 
panions. " Fine greeting for an old friend, isn’t 
it?" 

" 1 wouldn’t go," said Jack. " Why do you ?" 

" Oh, his bark has always been worse than his 
bite," replied the Englishman, who could never hold 
his anger long. " Very likely he will do something 
for me, although he is so standoffish. You never 
could tell with Merchant." 

This estimate was borne out by the facts, for 
Andrew announced on Monday night that Merchant 
had insisted on lending him a small sum, and was 
going to speak of him to influential friends. 

" Awfully good of him," Musgrave proceeded, 
spreading the crisp bills out before him ; " he 
wouldn’t hear of my not taking it. And he’s 
going to find me something ; he said if he had 
known 1 was idle he should have tried for me long 
before." 


The Black Lamb 


97 


This information made Jack and Noel glance at 
each other with compunction, as though they re- 
pented of judging harshly a man more loyal than 
themselves. Indeed, Merchant’s behavior was in 
every way the opposite of his manner. He kept 
Andrew handsomely supplied with money, and 
often sent for him to investigate possible situa- 
tions. Several times Andrew came within an ace 
of settling upon one thing or another, but the sec- 
retary’s nephew wanted the position, or he could 
not read German well enough, or any other slip 
chanced to throw him out of the place. He was 
really discouraged once or twice, as his comrades 
noticed with dismay. 

Nevertheless, no affair of business kept him from 
his daily visit at the Forbes’s. At first Marion had 
been cool, fearing to frighten Jack out of his visits, 
but as the days went on she changed her tactics, and 
began to treat Andrew with considerable gracious- 
ness. Jack, as she reasoned, needed a little punish- 
ment. So when Mr. Musgrave called she was 
charming, accepted his flowers and wore them, 
accepted his compliments, and otherwise treated 
him with favor. There was nothing in her manner 
to give him or any other man cause for self-satis- 
faction, yet she certainly did not discourage Andrew. 
So he came and he came, till Marion grew a little 
weary, and was not as gracious as at first. He 
called upon her one afternoon — he had a great ad- 
17* 


The Black Lamb 


198 

vantage over Jack in his being able to call in the 
afternoon — burdened with some exquisite roses. 
Marion had her own ideas, and they were not far 
from the truth, as to the source of Mr. Musgrave's 
income, and she looked upon his gifts with a secret 
displeasure as so much wasted of jack's substance. 
But she took them from him with a few graceful 
words of thanks, and observed him as she did so. 
There seemed to her in his manner to-day a certain 
masterfulness and confidence which did not please 
her. He stood beside her as she set the long- 
stemmed flowers into slender vases, and she, with 
a subtle foreboding, began to wonder if she could 
mentally telegraph Lyndon to join them and stave 
off the impending interview. There was a signifi- 
cant silence about Mr. Musgrave, and an alert man- 
ner which was new to him. 

I will set these on the mantle-piece," she said 
in a matter-of-fact tone, so that mother can enjoy 
them." 

Andrew watched her as she lifted the jar to its 
place. His eyes glittered like the sea on a sunshiny 
day. He took a step toward her as she turned and 
caught her by the hand. 

Marion, I’ve loved you for ever, and ever, and 
ever!" he cried. 

Marion grew a shade paler and drew back. The 
boyish face had grown older, the blue eyes deeper, 
the volatile, careless manner that had made her 


The Black Lamb 


199 


treat his advances as those of an aTectionate child 
had given place to a certain swagger and poise that 
she did not recognize. Encouraged by her silence, 
Andrew came nearer. You do love me ! you 
must!” he cried, with an impetuous vehemence 
that carried all before it with a rush. 

The girl was frightened. Here was no timid re- 
spectful wooer, but one who commanded more than 
he entreated, whose pleadings were more than half 
masterful. Luckily for her she was a decided little 
person, and knew her own mind better than most; 
yet even she stood wavering and speechless under 
the passionate flow of words. Most girls would 
have told Andrew Musgrave they loved him in ten 
minutes simply because he expected it, but Marion 
was level-headed, and her hesitation was surprise 
merely. She would never have known him in this 
new character ; he seemed to leap suddenly to twice 
his age. 

IVe loved you ever since I saw you !” he cried, 
rapidly. We were made for each other, Marion ! 
You do love me, don’t you, dear?” 

"‘Hush! Don’t!” she said, pulling away her 
hand and retreating before him step by step. Her 
hesitation did not check him. He poured out en- 
treaties, protests, vehement words, with an overcom- 
ing violence that would have won with any other. 

“Let’s leave all these stupid people !” he pleaded, 
catching her hand again. “ There’s a train for the 


200 


The Black Lamb 


North to-night. Marion, come with me ! Be my 
wife ! I will make you so happy ! We will be the 
happiest people on the earth V' 

She looked at him with wide eyes, poised be- 
tween amazement and anger. Do you mean to 
say that you are asking me to run away with you?'’ 
she cried, shrilly. 

I want you to come with me. I love you !” he 
persisted. Marion, say you will !” 

"'You must be mad !” she cried, with a gasp, 
thrusting him from her. What in heaven’s name 
gave you such an idea?” 

"‘You won’t?” he said, surprised in his turn. 
'' Don’t you love me ?” 

I don’t love you the least bit,” Marion declared 
with emphasis, "'and I wouldn’t elope with you 
if I loved you ever so much. Leave my mother 
like that! I can’t understand your daring to pro- 
pose such a thing !” 

She had drawn herself to her full indignant 
height, and as he looked at her angry eyes the 
assurance died slowly out of his face. 

" You’re treating me cruelly !” he said, in a hurt 
voice. " I’ve done nothing except love you. Isn’t 
there any hope for me ?” 

" Not the least in the world,” she said, decidedly ; 
"and I cannot imagine what led you to suppose 
there was ! I like you very well, of course, but as 
to anything more, why, it’s ridiculous 1” 


The Black Lamb 


201 


This was sufficiently plain speaking : Andrew 
turned slowly away. His face, although the confi- 
dence had left it, was still old and thoughtful, his 
eyes perplexed, the lips set in a firm line. He knew 
enough to know that vehement love-making was 
useless when she used that decided, practically- 
annoyed voice. Had he seen the slightest evidence 
in his favor he would not have withdrawn so 
soon. 

1 think you have treated me very unfairly,"’ he 
said, turning on the threshold of the room. ‘'You 
certainly did not show me that my visits were dis- 
agreeable.” 

“ They were not until the last,” retorted Marion, 
who was still standing, “ and if you will avoid the 
present topic in future, they may not be again.” 

“1 might have expected it,” said Andrew, the 
least quiver in his voice. “ Everybody from my 
father down has said good-by to me I 1 was a fool 
to think that any one could pity me a little in my 
loneliness !” 

His hearer was not moved by the pathos of this 
speech, but remained painfully matter-of-fact. 

“ It’s no use trying to work on my feelings,” 
she remarked, cheerfully; “moreover, when you 
have so little cause. It struck me that you had 
particularly loyal friends. I’m sorry if 1 encouraged 
you to this, but 1 assure you if 1 did it was most 
unintentional.” 


202 


The Black Lamb 


Andrew did not reply ; he was nonplussed for the 
first time in his life. Muttering something about 
American girls/’ he departed. 

Left to herself Marion was inclined to be tearful, 
but she was a character that knew the value of self- 
restraint. Nevertheless, although she did not in- 
dulge hysteria, she could not refrain from express- 
ing some displeasure at the occurrence. 

1 don't believe in him a bit !” she told herself, 
as she reviewed the scene. He is always, directly 
or indirectly, talking about himself. He doesn’t 
half appreciate what they do for him, and tell me 
that he can’t get work to do ! I’m going to tell 
Jack that I think he is a fraud, a charming, blue- 
eyed fraud. That is. I’ll tell him when ” 

And the ''when” set Marion a-dreaming until 
dinner-time. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


A sin, to snatch what dangles at mine eyes? 

A sin, to heed not some spent stranger’s cries? 

I tread the world to take my share, no less 
Than your cold creeds and worn philosophies. 

Andrew did not come home that night nor the 
next. His friends were by this time too used to his 
irregularities to take much note of them. The 
night, although the season had reached October, 
was sultry, a lamp made the room oppressive. 
Outside, a warm wind whirled the dust into eddies, 
the stars glinted faintly through the haze. 

The city seemed dried-up and gasping. 

''Phew!” said Noel, coming into the room in 
his shirt-sleeves. "This is awful! Are you 
going out, old boy?” 

"Yes; to the Forbes’s. I promised Miss Forbes 
I would come.” 

"Where’s Andy? I wonder what he’s about. 
Do you know. Jack, I don’t half like this way he 
has of disappearing.” 

"Why not? What’s your reason?” 

"Oh, no reason,” Noel replied, impatiently. He 
was leaning on the window-sill trying for a breath 

203 


204 


The Black Lamb 


of air. ‘'Only I don't like it. 1 think it’s deuced 
inconsiderate. He has left his coat in our room.” 

"Oh, well, carry it into his. He knows you’re 
no end of a good fellow, and that’s why he leaves 
his things lying about. He is only careless.” And 
Jack banged the door after him, and jumped down- 
stairs three steps at a time. 

Noel sat on the window-sill and looked into the 
street. By and by he rose, and going slowly into 
the next room, picked up Andrew’s coat and carried 
it down the corridor to his bedroom. There was 
no light there, and groping for one he stumbled, 
caught his foot in the coat, and jerked half the con- 
tents of its pockets on the floor. " Dash it !” he 
cried, vexedly. " Where the devil does he keep 
the matches?” When he found one and lit the gas, 
he stooped to pick up Andrew’s belongings and 
restore them to his coat-pockets. He had scattered 
a pile of letters and bills hither and yon ; but what 
caught his attention was a pile of pasteboard strips, 
a whole drift of them, twenty at the least. He 
picked one up, — it was a pawn-ticket. 

" Aha !” he thought, laughing to himself. " So 
that’s where some of his money came from !” 

When he picked up a second and saw that it was 
the same, and yet another, and the whole heap, and 
noted that they were all pawn-tickets, the laughter 
faded out of his face to be replaced by a look of 
half-troubled surprise. He stood hesitating, wavered 


The Black Lamb 


205 


between his wish to do nothing underhand and his 
growing, undefined suspicion. Then with a sudden 
movement of decision he gathered the pile together, 
turned out the gas, and went slowly back to his 
sitting-room. Under the lamp he examined the 
strips of card-board. 

There had fallen from Andrew’s pocket no less 
than twenty-three pawn-tickets, bearing the address 
of seven different pawn-shops at v/idely separated 
quarters of the city. Noel spread them out on the 
table, a dawning terror in his eye. The mere truth 
of their existence was not what troubled him, but 
the dim question, where had Andrew Musgrave got 
twenty-three articles to pawn? His clothes? Noel 
ran back to the room he had left, relit the gas-jet, 
opened the closets and drawers : they were all quite 
full. He might easily overlook two or three articles, 
but not twenty. By this time he had quite left 
behind him the natural repugnance that at first made 
him turn from investigation. Surely, in the position 
in which he stood toward Andrew Musgrave, no one 
had a better right to know if he were being de- 
ceived. He went back again to the sitting-room, 
recounted the pawn-tickets, and then threw himself 
into a chair, and tried to marshal his thoughts into 
regular definition. When Andrew arrived from 
Colorado the previous spring he had owned abso- 
lutely nothing except the clothes on his back, — not 
a scrap of jewelry, not an article of personal 
18 


2o6 


The Black Lamb 


property. Since then, although he had of course 
furnished himself with necessities, he had certainly 
no large supply of personal effects on which to 
draw. Moreover, Noel knew most of his belong- 
ings, and they were all in their places. He might 
easily pawn a trifle or two, a book, or the silver 
mirror which he had bought to give to Marion 
Forbes, but there were twenty-one pawn-tickets 
unaccounted for, and if they did not represent 
Andrew’s own property, what did they represent ? 
Noel’s eyes, merely puzzled at first, grew, as he 
thought, into fear and horror. There came troop- 
ing into his mind a dozen events of the past six 
months : Andrew’s falsehood, his secret search in 
Noel’s bureau, and worse than all because so vague, 
his reticence, and his absences. 

This line of thought was maddening, and charged 
with impatient suspense. Noel picked up his hat, 
not knowing what he dreaded, but dreading what 
he knew. One of the pawn-shops was but a block 
or two away, and he made in that direction, walk- 
ing fast and trying not to think about anything at 
all. 

The man, a Jew, was civil enough. The young 
man belonged in his opinion to the best class of his 
customers, — those who seldom redeemed their 
pledges. He took the ticket and went to the back 
of the shop, while Noel waited, towering between 
an Irish laborer sodden in drink and a colored 


The Black Lamb 


207 


woman in a purple shawl that made a splotch of 
harsh color in the dingy interior. The man returned 
unwrapping a parcel, threw it on the counter, and 
tapped commandingly with his pencil for the next 
comer. It was a little diamond clasp, sparkling 
vividly in the flare of the gas-jet overhead. Noel 
did not pick it up, he simply stared at the initials 
engraved on the back that was turned up to his view. 
It was Philippa Axenard’s diamond clasp; he remem- 
bered it quite well. He stood so stone-still that 
the colored woman glanced at him curiously, then 
coming to himself with a jerk, he pushed the clasp 
to one side, and handed the man two more pawn- 
tickets with a gesture almost of command. There 
was something odd in his manner that caused the 
Jew to glance at him with sullen suspicion when he 
laid the two articles upon the counter, — a gold pen- 
cil, evidently the property of Lyndon Forbes, and a 
handsome heavy, old-fashioned gold watch of Gene- 
van make. This gave him a start, and there shot 
distinctly into his imagination the picture of an 
elderly gentleman standing on the sidewalk and 
ruefully regarding the broken links of his watch- 
chain. 

There v/as a sort of numbness about him as he 
paid the money and redeemed the pledged articles, 
and he stepped out of the shop into the dusty 
street hardly able to understand what it all meant, 
— what it meant to Andrew, what it meant to 


208 


The Black Lamb 


himself. He spent that evening going from pawn- 
shop to pawn-shop with a thorough determination 
to sift the wrong to the bottom. When he came 
out of the last, which was far down-town, and took 
the Elevated home, the scope and extent of Andrew’s 
thefts were horribly plain to him. He had not of 
course redeemed a quarter of the pledges, but 
among the twenty-three articles he recognized Jack’s 
silver-mounted pistols, that had been his father’s, 
his own gold sleeve-links and other trinkets, and 
another watch bearing an unknown cipher. The 
rest turned out to be bits of jewelry which Noel had 
never seen before, and which sickened him to think 
of identifying. Jack was in bed and asleep when 
he re-entered the house, and he was glad, as during 
the ride home he had decided to say nothing of his 
discovery for the present. The first thing to be 
done was to save Andrew, to pluck him from the 
shameful path he was pursuing, and it was like 
Noel that he put this object before the insult to him- 
self. The situation was frightful, and left him very 
uncertain as to his course. Until he knew Andrew’s 
record and the full history of his thieving proclivities, 
he could not decide whether wholly to condemn 
or partly to pity him. It seemed so incredible to 
connect petty pilfering from acquaintances, acts of 
robbery so daring and so sure, with those straight- 
forward blue eyes, that honest, open, boyish laugh- 
ter. The pure audacity of the whole affair was 


The Black Lamb 


209 


staggering. Noel remembered how Andrew had 
searched on his knees with the rest for Miss Axen- 
ard’s clasp ; how politely he had advised the old 
gentleman to advertise for his watch ! Was he 
perhaps a kleptomaniac, irresponsible for the mo- 
ment? Was he anything but a common thief? 

I will find out all before 1 speak,” Noel thought. 

Merchant knows him, 1 will find Merchant at 
once. Together we will talk to him, help him up, 
give him a fresh start. He may have some claim 
on him we do not know, some dependent asking 
for money, and he has been driven to theft from de- 
spair. Yes, it must be that ; Andrew cannot be bad, 
— he is ashamed, and that is why he stays away so 
much.” 

Noel Conway, with his eyes only half open to the 
world, was not a man to look farther than he knew. 
As yet he felt no anger toward Musgrave. A great 
pity, a great sorrow, a dreadful uncertainty what to 
do and how to do it, these mingled confusedly in 
his mind, but there was no personal sense of indig- 
nation. The charm of the man was on him still, 
and it dulled the edge of wrath. It would take 
more than one wrench of discovery to shake his 
affection for the comrade whose company was so 
greatly to his taste. 

His suspicion, moreover, spread no further than 
it had done at first ; the fact was so bad that it 
never occurred to him there might be worse behind. 

t; 18* 


210 


The Black Lamb 


Another nature would have been prone to any belief 
after such a discovery, but Noel had touched bot- 
tom ; what he had found out was to him so terrible 
that it blotted the possibility of worse from view, 
and prepared him not a whit for his further awaken- 
ing. With the recollection of Andrew’s kindly, 
genial comradeship in his heart, with the recollection 
of Andrew’s open, cheerful face in his eye, he was 
as duped as though he had made no discovery at all. 

His mind was full of Merchant and his help to 
raise Andrew to honesty once more, the full explana- 
tion, the remorse, the new start on the straight 
way. For once he forgot Noel Conway utterly in 
his concern for Andrew Musgrave, and that concern 
held his mind in its own circle, so that he finally 
slept racked, indeed, with shock and distress, but 
as innocent of the truth, as far from suspicion of 
the whole, as though he had never found out Mr. 
Musgrave’s amiable weakness for other people's 
possessions. 

In the morning he sought Merchant, but the man 
had left town, giving no address. The delay was 
cruel, but Noel preserved silence through it all, and 
not till the ist of November did he gather by a 
chance remark of Andrew’s that his friend was once 
more in New York. Noel had not spoken even to 
Jack, for an odd sense of justice restrained him 
from denouncing the thief until he could point a 
path to honesty. Merchant would help him, and 


The Black Lamb 


211 


they would talk it over with the culprit decidedly, 
but kindly. He had replaced some of the pawn- 
tickets in Musgrave's pocket, and knew him well 
enough to be quite sure that he would not keep any 
too minute a record of their existence. So he was 
himself secure of discovery, and free to wait and 
plan his generous intentions. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Save me, I crave my succor at thy hand ! 

Save me, no other one can understand 
That if I sink now I shall drag thy soul 
Down with mine own below the Stygian strand ! 

It was Clement Frey’s habit to spend the month 
of October near town, visiting in country houses at 
Long Island, Tuxedo, or on the Hudson. He rarely 
settled in the city before the middle of November, 
and could not be entreated to spend so much as a 
night in New York on any pretence whatever from 
the I St of May until the date of his return for the 
winter. Whatever summers he spent in Europe, 
he was invariably in his accustomed place at his 
accustomed date. Being one of the most obstinate 
men that ever lived, and one who rarely broke a 
rule, his acquaintances were surprised to find that 
he had moved into his apartment on the last day 
of October. Two causes linked hands to induce 
this departure : first, the publication of his new 
book, a work which he always superintended in 
person ; and second, the fact that Mr. Merchant, 
growing wearied of his round of visits, announced 
his intention of returning to town. 

212 


The Black Lamb 


213 


Since they went away together in the spring, 
Clement Frey had not been parted from his new 
friend for longer than a week. They had gone 
everywhere, seen and done everything together. 
Frey knew how to keep his companionship from 
becoming irksome, and the freer and easier Mer- 
chant became in his society the closer Frey set his 
steps by the Englishman. The task that the author 
mapped for himself had entailed a considerable 
wrenching of his way of life, as well as the most 
untiring vigilance, patience, and tact: qualities 
worthy in themselves, yet running in a pursuit 
surely ignoble. 

On the morning of the ist of November Mr. 
Frey might have been seen in his study had he not 
given strict orders to admit no visitors. The room 
was still dismantled and disarranged. The win- 
dows were dingy, the shelves and cabinets bare. 
A case of Chinese curios presented by a friend stood 
open, but unpacked, in a litter of straw. The 
bookcases were shrouded in gray cloth wrappers, 
the pictures veiled in mosquito-netting ; the whole 
apartment presented that chrysalis appearance which 
is so oppressive to the owner. Had Frey been a 
married man, he would doubtless have picked up 
his hat and spent the day at his club, returning 
only when the chrysalis had given place to the 
butterfly. As it was, however, he was forced to 
sit forlornly by his writing-table, while his valet 


214 


The Black Lamb 


carried things to and fro, and shifted other things 
about, in an anxious effort to establish order. At 
Mr. Frey’s side on the desk and on his knee were 
two piles of papers, — big legal envelopes marked 

Private,” which contained a mass of telegrams 
and letters. These he sifted and rearranged, the 
frown deepening all the while on his unexpres- 
sive face. "'No proof! no proof!” he grumbled ; 
"every possible likelihood : motive found and man- 
ner guessed, but no proof. The whole summer 
wasted over this business ! I must get at young 
Musgrave — I have put it off too long already — and 
Gordon. Damn it all, where has Gordon gone to ?” 

"Shall I unpack the case now, sir?” said his man, 
suavely. 

Clement Frey looked at him blankly. "Case? 
case ? Oh, yes, of course ; unpack it and be careful. 
It’s full of ivory carvings, and if you break a point 
of one ril discharge you. If the set is not perfect, 
I don’t want it. . . . And all this time no proof!” 

" No what, sir?” asked the servant, waiting. 

"No place for you if you break my ivory carv- 
ings. Get my coat, Martin. I’m going out.” 

Fie lingered a moment, still frowning, and then 
went slowly out into the street. As he turned his 
steps toward the Waldorf his mind reverted to its 
annoyance. "Philippa Axenard was right,” he 
thought; " this can’t go on, and it’s quite useless. 
She usually is right, that girl, — a sort of mental 


The Black Lamb 


215 


balance to other women. Now, if I wanted to get 
married she would suit me delightfully. We would 
be a remarkably discriminating pair ; no misplaced 
enthusiasms. Perhaps it might be a good thing. I 
can easily fall in love with her if 1 want to ; the 
question is, do 1 want to? Love is like brandy, 
when a man gets to a certain age, either he wants 
it neat, or he doesn't want it at all. Tm not sure 
which is my case. We’ll see — after this business is 
over." 

It was like him, to whom perversity was a science, 
that because he should have hurried he walked 
slower and slower. The frown faded out of his 
face in time, and his thoughts resumed their placid 
current. Merchant had a little apartment of two 
rooms, entered by means of a vestibule, that was 
screened from the latter of them by a heavy curtain. 
Frey did not send up his name, but went up at 
once, and tapped in person at the vestibule door. 
There was no answer ; so, after waiting a second, he 
opened it, closed it after him, and then stood stock- 
still behind the curtain as Merchant’s voice, deep- 
toned and angry, rang upon his ear. 

I tell you I shall not give you another cent !’’ 

The voice that came to Frey’s ears in answer was 
shrill and high-pitched. 

Do you say that, knowing what you say?’’ 
say I shall not give you another penny ! I’m 
tired of all this, dead tired, do you hear ? I’ve been 


2i6 


The Black Lamb 


bled enough. I’m damned if I stand any more of 
it !” His voice was deep and strident. Frey, who 
had not moved a finger since his entrance, drew a 
sudden breath and made a sudden gesture, both of 
which he checked as suddenly. The shrill voice 
replied, with an undertone of threatening trucu- 
lence, — 

You know what I can do. You had better give 
it to me.” 

You may threaten all you like, I shan’t give it 
to you ; I haven’t got it to give ” 

- That’s a lie V' 

''Hullo, Merchant!” cried, jovially. Merchant’s 
friend, appearing carelessly in the door- way. "You 
don’t mind my being late, I suppose ?” 

The two men who faced each other in the centre 
of the room turned two startled faces toward the 
speaker. Merchant’s was ghastly, Andrew Mus- 
grave’s flushed with anger. 

"Why, it’s Musgrave!” said Frey, advancing 
cheerfully. "You remember me, don’t you ? We 
met in London.” 

He nodded explanatorily toward his friend as he 
extended a hand toward the young man. Andrew 
took it with a momentary return of his bright 
smile. 

"I remember,” he said, frankly; "you came to 
supper. I wasn’t down on my luck then, and my 
friends hadn’t turned their backs on me.” 


The Black Lamb 


217 


‘'Dear me!'’ said Frey, sympathizingly, "'that’s 
bad, but not altogether true, I hope.” 

"Musgrave!” shouted Merchant, coming forward 
a step, "Tve asked you to leave this room !” 

"Now, now, now 1” said Frey, looking from one 
to the other, "you two mustn’t quarrel ; it’s most 
unfortunate. Cool down a little. Rod, and talk 
about it reasonably.” 

"If that young puppy doesn’t leave this room, 
I’ll kick him out I” Merchant answered, violently. 

Andrew turned on him with a species of con- 
tempt. "I’m going,” he said, hardily, looking his 
host in the eye; "and I shan’t come back in a 
hurry, though you may hear from me.” He stood 
a moment in the door-way, looking back at Mer- 
chant. ‘"You’ll hear from me again !” he said, and 
went out. 

Frey turned to Merchant inquiringly. 

"Oh, he’s a young scampi” said his friend, 
answering the look. " I was a deal too good to him 
in London, when a man of more sense would have 
let him go his own way.” The color had crept 
back in part to his ghastly face, but there still lin- 
gered an uneasiness in those blank eyes of his, and 
it was evident he was strongly swayed with anger. 
"He’s always at me for money!” he jerked out, 
twisting irritably in his chair ; "his people at home 
won’t give it to him, so he comes to me. I’ve 
given him heaven knows how much, and now, 

K 19 


2I8 


The Black Lamb 


when I’m tired of it, he threatens me !” He clinched 
his fist in a sudden flame of rage. ''He may do 
what he likes, he may send us both to the devil, I 
shan’t give him another penny !” he cried. 

Frey, who had been observing a new water- 
color, turned slowly at this. "You are right; I 
shouldn’t,” he said, briskly. " Send him home. 
Why did he come to you in the first place ?” 

"Oh, he was hard up, and so was I,” said Mer- 
chant, impatiently, "and when I got some I gave 
him a share, more fool I.” 

"He came over on the ‘ Hamburger,’ I think?” 
said Frey in his quietest tone. 

"Yes; and I furnished him with cash to go to 
Colorado.” 

" Ungrateful young cub ! Did he win much on 
the ' Hamburger’ business ?” said Frey, still more 
quietly. The recollection seemed to sting Merchant 
into another fit of anger. 

" Oh, all he won went in a month,” he said ; " he 

wouldn’t take odds enough. Why, I went ” he 

checked, and looked askance at his companion. 

Frey, however, with drawn eyebrows, was ex- 
amining the bottom of Dresden plate. " What an 
extravagant young fool !” he said, absently. " I say. 
Rod, did you get this plate here ? No ? I thought 
not. Was Musgrave with you in the Tyrol ?” 

" No ; we quarrelled before that. I didn’t know 
anything of his intention of coming to America.” 


The Black Lamb 


219 


Mr. Merchant spoke carelessly, almost too carelessly, 
apparently forgetting his statement with regard to 
Andrew’s money matters, and Frey seemed to pay 
very little attention to what he said. 

There was a pause, and then the author set the 
Dresden plate in its place. ''Look here,” he said, 
briskly, "there’s something to do somewhere, and 
you need amusement. What shall it be, old 
fellow ?” He seemed to have forgotten the subject 
of their converse, linked his arm in the English- 
man’s, and did not refer again directly or indirectly 
to the scene he had witnessed. 


CHAPTER XX. 


A palace for the angels was my soul, 

A niche for contemplation and control ; 

Lo ! like the riot of a masquerade 
Come grinning passions, and defile the whole. 

When he left the Waldorf, Andrew Musgrave ex- 
perienced the first sinking of the heart that he had 
ever known. All avenues seemed blocked to him. 
He was reckless enough, yet he dared not attempt 
another theft, for he had noticed, with momentary 
cold fear ^ that Noel had been more careful with his 
keys than usual during the past few weeks. He 
had a sudden undefined paralysis of his nerve and 
of his daring ; he was smitten for the first time with 
nervous dread ; for the first time he sweated with 
suspicion, and had a creeping horror of returning 
home. One by one his resources had failed him, 
his friends, his step-mother. Merchant. In all his 
career there had always been a crevice ahead through 
which he might creep if hard pressed, but now the 
way was a blank wall, windowless, sheer, a wall of 
stone and iron. 

Leave New York ? How could he when he had 
no money ? and to pawn all his belongings would 
not bring him enough for any distinct purpose. He 
220 


The Black Lamb 


22 


thought desperately; his invention plunged into 
every channel of escape, only to bring up against 
the barrier. He breathed hard, and glanced about 
him furtively on all sides like one entrapped ; an 
overmastering terror numbed his powers of expedi- 
ent. There were two courses only open to him. 
One was to carry into force his threat against Mer- 
chant, and Andrew had his own reasons for hesita- 
ting to resort to that dark and doubtful extremity. 
The other was to live each day for itself, with a blind 
trust to blind chance. Where he was his living 
was at least secured to him, yet at this point he 
foresaw with a sickening clairvoyance the day ap- 
proach when even that would be denied him. 

These reflections were so contrary to his ordinary 
habit of mind that they lowered him inch by inch 
into a black and unusual depression. Turn any 
way he would, set his feet on any path, face 
any horizon, he must front a consequence that to 
his mind bore a hideous importance. With this 
new contemplation Andrew seized pen and ink, 
and dashed off a last desperate appeal to the 
woman who had never failed him. 

''Unless something is done at once,’' he wrote, 
" expect to hear that 1 am in jail, for before God I do 
not see any other road before me. I have been 
driven to worse than borrowing, and I stand in 
hourly danger of detection. You have always loved 
me, — I turn to you as a savior. If you can get me 
19* 


222 


The Black Lamb 


out of this, I promise on my sacred word of honor 
to be everything you and my father can desire here- 
after. I have had my lesson. If not, the LeBreton 
honor is lost, and you at least have seen the last of 

Andrew. 

Do not fear that I shall live to stand trial."' 

The theatrical protest of his note had been duly 
weighed, and was characteristic. That it was cal- 
lous to brutality did not enter the mind of the writer. 
A swift steamer sailed the following day, he 
stamped and posted the letter, and by a sheer effort 
of will drove away his fears and resumed his cus- 
tomary bravado. 'Mn twelve days,” he thought 
with a shrug, as though to throw the whole on to 
the shoulders of Fate, *Mn a fortnight I shall know.” 

And picking up an acquaintance on the street 
after dinner, he passed the evening at the theatre. 

Meanwhile, Merchant had returned to his hotel 
in an ill-humor no gayety of Frey’s had been able 
to dissolve. He had been sombre and taciturn, had 
drunk a good deal, and had excused himself rather 
coldly when the author suggested going out. He 
was tired, he had a headache, it threatened rain, 
these were his excuses ; and Frey did not accept 
them without protest. Merchant declared that it 
was his intention to pass a quiet evening and go to 
bed early ; and once assured that these were really 


The Black Lamb 


223 


his desires, Frey did not press his company upon 
his friend. Unfortunately, Merchant’s evening was 
disturbed, for scarcely had he settled himself to 
read than a servant announced Mr, Conway. The 
night was warm and damp, the clouds lying thick 
along the sky, and reflecting the dull red glow of 
the city lamps. All the windows in Merchant’s 
room were open, and the lamp under whose light 
he had stretched himself smoked and flared in the 
gusts. Merchant was in his smoking-jacket, the 
Rider and Driver and the Sporting Times upon 
his knee, and a tall glass of brandy-and-soda at his 
elbow. Despite the frown on his brow and the 
worried twitch of his mouth, he looked extremely 
comfortable, and rose to greet Noel when he came 
in with enough cordiality. The young man shook 
him by the hand, with a repetition of the impression 
that had been made on him at their first meeting. 
He looked very tall and rather solemn, his eyes ex- 
amined Merchant behind half-closed lids, and his 
whole manner was weighted with a purpose. 

Delighted to see you, my dear Conway,” said 
Merchant, smiling, as he went to meet his guest. 
''Awfully good of you to come. I should have 
dropped in on you before this if I had not been so 
dreadfully busy, don’t you know.” 

"I did not know till yesterday that you had 
returned to New York,” replied Noel, seating him- 
self. 


224 


The Black Lamb 


Have something to drink ? No ? A cigar, then. 

I can recommend these," said Merchant, hospitably. 

No, thank you," Noel answered ; my errand 
is a little difficult, and I would rather not smoke till 
it’s over." 

‘"Oh, just as you please," Merchant said, with a 
smile. '^ I’ve not forgotten the good turn you did 
me in London. Do you remember ? That beastly 
fog." 

I’ve come to you, Mr. Merchant," Noel said, 
with just a shade of hesitation, ''on rather a deli- 
cate sort of business, and that’s a fact." 

Merchant had thrown himself back in his chair, 
and was regarding Conway carelessly as he lit a 
cigar. At this, however, his eyes contracted, he 
steadied the match in his hand, and displayed more 
attention. "Go on," he said; "I'm listening." 

"You're a friend of Andrew Musgrave’s, I be- 
lieve ?’’ began Noel. 

A black rage spead over Merchant’s face ; he tossed 
away the match and raised his hand commandingly. 
"If you please," he said slowly, but with venom, 
"don’t believe anything of the sort. I’m not a 
friend of his, and I’ve no intention of being ; no, nor 
of acting like a friend of his in any way whatever." 

There was so concentrated a hate in the words 
that Noel stood surprised, hardly knowing how to 
proceed. 

"If Andrew Musgrave has sent you here," Mer- 


The Black Lamb 


225 


chant proceeded still slowly, and choosing his words 
with nicety, '"you can tell him from me that I 
never forget; that I consider all communications 
closed between us ; that if he chooses to write me I 
will burn his letters unread ; and that if he dares to 
speak to me I’ll horse-whip him, if it should be on 
the public street 1” His anger gathered headway as 
he spoke. 

Andrew certainly did not send me,'’ said Noel, 
more and more surprised, " nor does he guess that 
I am here. I don’t understand exactly, but 1 fancy 
you’ve found him out yourself, and you are angry ; 
indeed, I don’t blame you !” 

" I have found out a good deal about that young 
gentleman in the course of years,” Merchant replied, 
grimly. " What have you found out?” 

The first hard drops of rain pattered on the 
window-sill as Noel paused, flushing a little. Then 
the gust came sweeping into the room, and the 
down-pour followed as Merchant rose to close the 
window. " Well ?” the Englishman continued, 
turning. 

" Well, the truth is,” Noel went on, very slowly, 
" I am a little perplexed how to act, and wanted to 
consult you. You see, I can rely upon you not to 
mention it, of course, but Musgrave has been 
stealing.” 

‘"Stealing!” interjected Merchant, scornfully. 
"" Is that all ?” 

P 


226 


The Black Lamb 


said Noel, rising in his astonishment. 
''Isn’t it enough ?” 

" Not for Musgrave,” answered Merchant, with 
decision. Then seeing Noel struck speechless by 
the remark, he continued in a different tone : "Do 
you mean to say that you do not know about him ? 
Is it possible ? I beg your pardon, Conway ; I 
fancied, of course, you knew. 1 never dreamed he 
was deceiving you.” 

A flash came over Noel’s face, and he spoke 
quickly. " Know? Know what ? What do you 
mean ? What should 1 know ? What is he ?” 

"I mean about his Oxford career. Didn’t you 
know that he had been sent down ?” 

" Oh, that, yes ! He told me that himself.” 

" Did he tell you that he eloped with one of the 
instructor’s wives and took her to Paris with him ? 
No? I thought not. That was the cause of his 
expulsion. He took her to Paris, and then left her. 
It made quite a sensation last spring a year ago. His 
father disowned him, after he caught him present- 
ing a forged check, — but perhaps you know all this?” 

" Musgrave I” gasped Noel. 

Merchant pushed away his chair with a quick 
burst of irritation. 

" Musgrave!” he repeated, contemptuously ; "his 
name is no more Musgrave than mine is. Do you 
think he would stick at an alias ? Why, man, he’s 
a LeBreton, Sir Robert LeBreton of Surrey, his sec- 


The Black Lamb 


227 

ond son. He has been a devil unchained ever since 
he was breeched for all his innocent blue eyes.’' 

Noel put his hand out and caught the back of 
the nearest chair. 

Tell me more !” he said, hoarsely. "" What else 
has he done ?” 

Merchant glanced at him curiously. His lips, 
always firm, were welded together, his eyes glit- 
tered. So powerful an agitation struggled in his 
dark face that Merchant felt his own indignation 
rekindle at the sight. He’s done everything to 
get hung!” he cried, furiously; ''borrowed and 
stolen right and left. Everybody cut him in Lon- 
don after the elopement, so that’s why he took 
another name. They say his step-mother spoilt 

him beyond measure when he was a lad Why, 

man, what’s the matter with you ? you’re ill I” 

"No!” cried Noel, who had staggered a pace. 
"Tell me; goon. What else?” 

" Nothing else that I know of,” said the English- 
man, sobered by the listener’s expression, " except 
that you had best get rid of him at once if he is 
living on you. The young scoundrel ! He would 
stare the fiend himself out of countenance.” 

Noel put his hand up to his throat, — he could 
hardly breathe. A fury shook him from head to 
foot like a blast of wind. 

"Thank you,” he said, bowing politely to Mer- 
chant. " I shall go home and take your advice.” 


228 


The Black Lamb 


Then he went out into the street, staggering. 
LeBreton ! LeBreton ! the name had fallen on him 
like a bomb and scattered fire among his thoughts. 
He had been tricked, fooled, duped, played upon like 
a passive instrument from the first moment of meet- 
ing, and all the while he had trusted, excused, 
believed I Rage swayed him to and fro, blinded 
him, roared at his ears, made flakes of foam gather 
at his lips, — furious, overmastering rage. Oh, to 
have given, to have trusted, to have believed every 
word, to have suspected nothing, to have withheld 
nothing from the sunny face, the frank blue eyes ! 
Noel neither saw, nor heard, nor felt. The rain 
poured upon him, splashed upon his hands, beat 
upon his face, soaked him to the skin ; he did not 
even know that it was raining. 

And the woman, that good generous step-mother, 
— it was his own mother, — she had aided the thief, 
and covered him, and he had forced money from 
her by threat of exposure. An inarticulate cry rose 
in Noel’s throat as the thoughts hammered them- 
selves upon his brain, — he had been the tool, the 
gull, thrown between their hands like a ball, used 
as a terror to blackmail Andrew LeBreton’s mother 
and his own. 

For the moment he was like a madman ; he 
writhed his hands in the air, plucked at his clothes, 
rung his teeth together, and ground them. The 
philosophic garment, the calm, the contemplation. 


The Black Lamb 


229 


the dreams, and the visions withered before this 
passion like straws before a furnace. A Niagara of 
anger poured upon the dreamer s soul, the founda- 
tions of thought shook under it, his ears resounded 
with the roar of it, his head reeled with the clash 
and confusion of it, and the whole world seemed 
like a pit filled to boiling with the flood. 

A thought suddenly led him to remember that 
Andrew was still unpunished. He tore through 
Broadway in the sheets of lashing rain, reached 
home and up the stairs three, four, steps at a time, 
fumbled with the lock like a drunkard, plunged with 
bloodshot eyes into the room. It was empty. He 
stared about him, breathing hard. No one was 
there. In the sudden unexpected silence he seemed 
to realize his own frenzy. With an effort for control 
that was like the grasp of a drowning man, he 
walked over to a chair, sat down, clasping the arms 
of it with his hands, and tried to think. His face 
was absolutely rigid, but the fury, the shame, the 
humiliation, surged over him in great waves. The 
madness that had assailed him in the street was 
not bitted firmly like a raging horse, and carried 
him steadily on and on in his thoughts for revenge. 
Not a muscle twitched, his eyes were wide open 
and hard, his hands wrapped so tight about the 
arms of the chair that they grew white at the joints. 

And when Jack came in at midnight, Noel was still 
sitting there, silent, as one overwhelmed in thought. 

20 


CHAPTER XXL 


Thus life is measured by death’s measuring rod : 

Thus life is levelled, silent, sod by sod. 

Who is the Measurer and Leveller, 

God ? And the echo still re-echoes, God! 

Marion sat in her pretty room, looking so pretty 
herself Twas a pity no artist had been there to see. 
She was embroidering ; her face bent over the deli- 
cate-hued silks was pensive, her eyes a little sad. 
Last evening had been the first that Jack had failed 
to come, the first time that she had ever waited for 
him in vain. It gave her new and not agreeable 
matter for thought. Above her head a canary 
swung, breaking now and again into spasmodic 
trills and quavers. The rain of the night before had 
given place to all-enfolding sunshine ; the air had a 
keen autumnal zest, it was really November at last. 
A letter from Philippa Axenard lay beside her, and 
Marion picked it up to reread a few sentences. 

am so glad you sent young Musgrave to the 
right about. 1 never altogether liked him, yet for 
no reason, as he is undeniably charming. But 
from your letters 1 feared that he was really living 
on jack and his friend, and 1 know how generous 
they both are. You cannot drop a hint, 1 suppose ? 
Mr. Conway would take it ; he is very quick. I 
shall not be sorry to come home, although the 

230 


The Black Lamb 


231 


country is lovely. Expect me a week from to-day. 
It will be great fun to stay with you until mamma 
and papa move into town."' 

The house seemed very still, thought Marion, as 
she laid down the letter. It always seemed still 
after Lyndon had departed to his work. He was 
one of those superanimated persons who let their 
presence resound, as it were, in a sort of excite- 
ment. He rose at six, and occupied himself be- 
tween that hour and breakfast-time in rousing 
^ every one else to bear him company. When he 
was in the house, all things were pervaded by an 
atmosphere of restlessness, and his sister noted the 
contrast with relief. 

Her meditations were hovering over the color of 
her parlor carpet, when the maid stood in the door- 
way. 

Plaze, Miss Marion,'' said this functionary, who 
invariably asked permission for whatever happened 
in her province, here’s Mr. Sartoris.’' 

Marion jumped up, flung down her work, and 
flashed out of the room without stopping to brush 
her hair. Jack at ten in the morning boded some- 
thing unusual. 

He was standing in the centre of the room hat 
in hand, and came swiftly toward her with a dis- 
tressed face. ^^Oh, Marion!'’ he cried, ^'can you 
come? Something is the matter with Coni I 
don’t know what, but I am sure he’s ill !” 


232 


The Black Lamb 


The name seemed so natural from his lips that 
she did not even blush at it. 

1 will come at once,” she replied, quietly draw- 
ing her hand from his tight clasp. '' Wait here. I 
will be back in a minute.” 

Indeed, it was scarcely longer when she made her 
appearance dressed to go out. 

The unconventionality of the situation never oc- 
curred to either of them ; it was as it should be if 
Jack needed Marion that Marion should go. 

Now tell me,” she said, still in her quiet voice, 

what is it? What is the matter ?” 

""When I came in last night I found Con in a 
sort of daze, hot and cold at once,” Jack explained, 
as they walked rapidly up the street. ""It ap- 
pears that he had been sitting for a couple of 
hours in his wet clothes. You remember how 
hard it rained last night? Well, when he came out 
of that he took to shivering. I gave him some 
whiskey, but he acted so queerly, tossed and talked 
in his sleep all night, that I got worried about him. 
He got up this morning, but was giddy and felt 
queer, — complained of headache. About an hour 
ago he got so much worse that I thought Vd come 
for you.” 

"" I am very glad you did,” she said, heartily. 
"" It may be no more than a bad cold. What made 
him sit in his wet clothes ?” 

""Heaven only knows !” Jack replied. "" I pitched 


The Black Lamb 


233 


in to him for it, but he only said, ' Did I ?’ He did 
not seem to understand. I would have come sooner, 
only 1 couldn’t leave him.’’ 

''Where was Mr. Musgrave? Did he not help 
you ?” asked Marion, rather distantly. 

" Andy ? Oh, he wasn’t home. He did not come 
in at all yesterday. He spends most of his time 
away nowadays.” 

By this time they had reached the house, and they 
ran up the stairs to Jack’s room. Marion had never 
been there before, and looked about her with quick, 
curious glances and much interest. Noel lay at 
length upon a sofa that looked too short for him, 
and took no notice whatever of their entrance. At 
the first glance Marion thought he was asleep. She 
walked swiftly over to his side and bent over him. 
His eyes were closed, his mouth a little open ; his 
breathing came short and irregular. She noticed 
that his face had a purplish tinge, and that his hands 
and head were hot with fever. Marion knelt beside 
him, touching his wrists and forehead ; then she 
rose and turned to Jack. 

"Is there a doctor near?” she said. "He has 
fever, and ought to go to bed at once. A doctor 
can tell you if it is more than a feverish cold.” 

"Is he very sick?” inquired Jack miserably, de- 
vouring her with his eyes. 

" I hope not, I believe not,” she made reply ; " but 
you had better get a doctor as soon as you can.” 

20* 


The Black Lamb 


234 

""There is one around the corner, — a fellow I 
know,’' he said, doubtfully ; "" but ” 

""1 will wait here till you come back. It is all 
right,” she told him reassuringly. "" 1 do not mind 
in the least. After the doctor comes I will go home 
and get mother. She will tell you just what to do.” 

There was something so steadfast and self-reliant 
in her bearing and in the natural, unself-conscious 
words, that Jack could hardly deny her. There was 
a simple adaptability about Marion that gave her a 
dignity of her own. 

""1 will go immediately,” he cried, ""and 1 shall 
not be a moment longer than 1 can help.” 

Left to herself, Marion pulled a coverlet over Noel 
and scrutinized him sharply, and then wandered 
about the room looking at the pipes and photo- 
graphs; Jack and Noel as Heidelberg students, 
Noel and Jack, gun over shoulder, in Central 
America, on horseback in the Plains, at the bow of 
a little sail-boat somewhere else, in tramping cos- 
tume for the Black Forest, by their camp-fire in the 
Rockies. She stood a long while gazing at Richard 
Conway’s picture. "" How like he is !” she thought, 
glancing from the face on the wall to the face on 
the sofa, ""the same queer contour and Eastern 
features.” 

Then she turned to the portrait of Jack’s mother, 
recognizing it by some tender instinct, and her eyes 
filled with tears, mute and appealing. "" You had 


The Black Lamb 


235 

him then/’ she thought, her face uplifted to the 
sweet, serious, painted one, ^^and oh, I want him 
now !” The befurbelowed blue ball-dress and old- 
fashioned appearance of the portrait were to her like 
the nimbus and lily of a saint, and she sought for 
the likeness in the mother’s face point by point 
with conviction and reverence. 

Just then Jack came in followed by the doctor. 
The physician went rapidly through the usual pre- 
ludes to examination. Noel took no notice, and 
only once stirred, when he opened his eyes and 
said, Ah ! fooled !” 

Delirious,” nodded the doctor, with a finger on 
the sick man’s wrist ; not extraordinary with the 
fever at 104°. You ought to get him to bed at 
once.” 

He scribbled a prescription, shrugged his shoul- 
ders when Jack plied him with questions, gave 
a few terse directions about diet and so on, and 
said he would call again later. He gave these, by 
the way, to Marion, evidently taking her for the 
responsible person, a sister to one or the other. 

I had better go,” said Marion, as the door shut 
after him. 

'' No ; do wait a minute,” Jack begged. Wait 
till I get him safely fixed. 1 want to speak to 
you.” 

He half coaxed, half dragged his friend into the 
next room, and Marion could not refrain from in- 


The Black Lamb 


2}6 

ward laughter as she pictured Jack in the character 
of sick-nurse. However, she shut her ears with 
resolution, picked up a book of which she never 
turned more than one page, and waited. In half 
an hour he came back. 

He is all right,’' he declared. Must you go 
must-, indeed ; but 1 will send mother. Give 
me the doctor’s prescription ; I will leave it at the 
drug store as 1 pass.” 

She held out her hand for it, and there was a 
pause between them in which her heart jumped a 
beat or two faster. 

Oh, Marion !” said Jack, holding her hand fast. 
She looked up at him with a transfigured face, and 
in that moment he could find no words. And the 
dingy room, and the rattling street, and the smoke- 
besmeared sky had shifted at the word : there was 
a dazzling blue arch overhead, and a carpet of thick 
blossoms underfoot, and a great burst of enfolding 
sunshine. Neither of the two spoke a single word : 
the vision was too clear for speech. 

By and by Marion lifted her head. "" I must 
go,” she said, suddenly, not offering to move. 

Good-by.” 

''Yes, you must go,” remarked Jack, foolishly, 
not offering to move either. " Oh, Marion !” 
His entire vocabulary was reduced for the present to 
this noun and ejaculation. There was another 
pause and then Marion moved away. 


The Black Lamb 


237 

Good-by. I will send mother soon." 

Good-by, and don’t forget the prescription." 

Good-by,’’ she called, tremulously, hurrying 
down the staircase. 

Good-by,” he called after her over the balus- 
trade. 

Marion danced home, dashed into her own room, 
and fell to laughing and crying both at once. Her 
work lay where she had thrown it, the canary 
seemed asleep upon his perch, but at her entrance 
he burst into his most florid song, evidently under 
the impression that it was expected of him. 

Oh, you can sing !” she cried, hysterically ; 

sing loud ! sing all you like, you silly bird !” 

Her eyes shone as she recounted a part of the 
morning’s events to her mother. 

I told them I would send you,’’ she said, be- 
cause, you know, mother, I am sure that Jack 
Sartoris hasn’t an idea about nursing.” 

should think not,” declared Mrs. Forbes. 

Why didn’t you tell me before, Marion ? I will go 
this minute.” She hurried away, and returned 
later with a face in which dismay and amusement 
struggled for the upper hand. 

I am glad you told me,” she remarked, grimly, 
as her daughter with the most filial haste came to 
meet her. The place was in a perfect litter : and 
I leave you to guess, Marion,” this tragically, what 
young Sartoris was doing in the sick-room, — smok- 


238 


The Black Lamb 


ing! I very nearly fainted when I saw — I mean 
smelt him. He took the whole affair very easily I 
thought ; he fairly beamed on me.’’ 

"*Did he, mamma?” gasped Marion. 

am going to send over some beef-tea as soon as 
I can get it made. Noel should not touch solid food, 
but when I asked Jack Sartoris what he intended 
to give him, he said the only thing he could think 
of was ' curds and whey !’ Now, what do you 
suppose put that into his head ? He behaved in the 
most extraordinary way all the time ; he stood around 
and smiled on me and didn’t hear a word I said. I 
hope that young man is rational, Marion, but 1 have 
my doubts.’’ 

During Mrs. Forbes’s recital her daughter was 
torn between love and laughter. 

*'Oh, my dear ! my dear !” she thought, how 
very badly you need me to come and look after 
you I’’ 


CHAPTER XXIL 


Behind the lattice where I sit the din 
Of fighting in the court-yard rings within. 

Ah ! he is down, my lover, in the game ; 

What cares my sick soul though the Sultan win ? 

Noel had a sharp attack of fever that for a couple 
of days seemed likely to turn into typhoid. There 
was a good deal of it about, and he had been work- 
ing hard and was run down. However, this re- 
sult did not take place, and the fever, although most 
unpleasant, was not at any time serious. 

Thanks to Mrs. Forbes, who came regularly every 
day to see,” as she expressed it, that he had not 
been killed during the night,” and to Jack's devoted, 
if clumsy care, he was very well looked after, 
and in ten days seemed really on the mend. He 
had been delirious several times, and had talked 
wildly of being robbed and duped in a way that 
puzzled Jack not a little ; but most of the time he 
had been sleepy, and stupid, and easy enough to 
manage. He had been inclined to his old ways, 
too, in later convalescent moments, and wanted to 
talk metaphysics with Jack. But Jack was less 
tolerant of these periods than of old ; his active 
material life had shaken a good deal of the dust of 

239 


240 


The Black Lamb 


the East out of his eyes, and he was frankly a little 
bored when Noel ventured into the subject of the 
Supreme Cycle and the Astral Current. So Noel 
finally gave over and held his peace ; but the change 
hurt him. He was naturally weak and rather rest- 
less, very indignant at being kept in bed, and apt to 
vent his indignation by throwing things at Jack’s 
head. When two plates and a soap-dish had retired 
from this cause, Mrs. Forbes suddenly rose on the 
scene, and promptly ordered all such games to 
cease. They were so afraid of her that Noel lay 
back quite meekly, and jack, who had picked up a 
pillow to retaliate, put it down without a word. 
She quite bullied and ordered them about, so that 
they hardly dared to call their souls their own. 

All the week Noel’s fever was at its height 
Andrew came and went, offering help in his genial 
way, and when it was accepted proving very deft 
and skilful. He was looking white and pulled 
down himself, and spoke to Jack once or twice of 
his prospects in a tone of such discouragement that 
Jack implored him to take heart and accept a tem- 
porary loan. 

In his present state of beatitude Jack would have 
given anything that was asked of him. Andrew 
seemed distressed about Noel, and pressed his ser- 
vices upon Jack at every turn. True,” as he said. 

I’m no use at night, old boy, for I’m sure to drop 
asleep, but I’ll do anything you like in the day- 


The Black Lamb 


24 


time.” So Andrew slept the sleep of the unbur- 
dened, while Jack took care of his friend. As Noel 
began to mend, Andrew absented himself more and 
more. He may have had a vague suspicion, or he 
may simply have had no desire to offer services for 
which there was no need. However that may be, 
Twas certain that from the day the fever broke he 
was never in the sick-room and seldom in the house, 
jack felt surprise when he thought of it, but then 
Jack was in a sublime muddle of other thoughts. 

Noel never asked after Andrew, nor mentioned 
him. His remembrance of events on that night 
was at first dim and vague. And as his thoughts 
cleared and brightened, he found it hard to speak 
of, to think about. A sort of reactionary apathy 
had settled over him, a pleasant weakness that he 
shrunk from expelling : to rouse the devil of his 
emotions seemed hard and displeasing. The pas- 
sion of that nighfs discovery had wasted out in 
sickness, but it had left a steady unquenchable fire 
behind. He waited to feel stronger before taking 
action, before telling Jack and preparing for the end. 
Meanwhile, he put off the evil day, the bitter cup, 
and remembered nothing but the pleasant listless- 
ness of convalescence. As long as Andrew stayed 
out of sight, Noel, from the very fierceness of his 
first anguish, drove him out of mind. 

He did not lack attention by any means. Lyndon 
Forbes came often, and was so kind, so careful to 

L q 


21 


242 


The Black Lamb 


control his restlessness, to subdue his energetic 
manners to the quiet of the sick room that Noel 
felt ashamed and grateful. Bunches of flowers 
found their way into his room, together with kind 
messages of inquiry, from Philippa and Marion. 

This young lady had confided her engagement to 
her mother and her friend. She found the former 
kind, making no objections, but as unenthusiastic 
as the average mother over a prospective son-in- 
law. The latter, however, was as sympathetic as 
could be required, and never yawned over the 
catalogue of jack’s perfections even when she heard 
it for the twentieth time. She entered with ad- 
mirable heartiness into all Marion’s plans and calcu- 
lations, and assisted (in imagination) to furnish a 
dozen future homes, each prettier than the last. 
The two girls sat about in their night-gowns braid- 
ing their hair, and discussed Marion’s future life 
with minuteness and zest. 

But won’t you be very poor?” objected Philippa, 
during one of their nocturnal debates. 

Well, we shall not be rich, exactly,” Marion 
replied, shaking her hair over her shoulders in a 
golden shower. "'But jack’s doing splendidly, 
Mr. Raeburn told Lyndon, and 1 have something. 
Do you know, Phil,” proudly, " that 1 made a 
thousand dollars last year ? And 1 can do more if 
I try.’’ 

"" How will you live ?” asked Philippa. She had. 


The Black Lamb 


243 

of course, heard this all before, but that made no 
difference in her interest. 

"'Oh, I’m going to learn such a great deal,” said 
Marion. " How to cook in a chafing-dish — not the 
other kind, for Jack’s sake — and to do all kinds of 
handy things.” 

" Such as ?” 

"Well, to put down carpets, and hang curtains, 
and all the stupid things people usually pay to have 
done. And I’ve begun to economize already.” 

"You certainly are ' forethinking,”’ remarked 
Philippa. " How do you practise economy?” 

" Whenever I see an advertisement of anything 
particularly cheap and necessary,” said Marion, seri- 
ously, " I always cut it out and paste it into a book, 
so I shall have it all before my eyes.” 

Philippa laughed immoderately. "John Gilpin’s 
wife is a child to you in frugality !” she said. 
" Marion, you are too lovely !” 

" Oh, I have plenty of schemes,” said Marion, 
leaping into bed. "You have no idea what an 
ingenious pair we shall be. I expect to have mothers 
beg to send me their daughters and have them 
educated in housekeeping on a small income.” 

' I do not doubt you will be a marvel,” said her 
friend; "and you are beginning early enough, 
anyhow.” 

Such happiness was very beautiful, Philippa 
thought. She lay awake for some time after 


244 


The Black Lamb 


Marion had fallen asleep, and by and by the slow 
tears crept under her lids, although there lay no 
distinct cause for them in her meditation. 

Jack came back from the olfice on the evening 
of the 22d of November considerably elated. He 
had been called into the inner office, and had been 
‘.'complimented by the head of the firm, who charged 
him with private business to Boston. The choice 
of messenger was flattering, the errand, if tactfully 
performed, would mean another advance, and Jack 
was delighted, except that he must leave his friend. 
This at least was what he said. 

*'Oh, don’t mind me,” said Noel, who was feel- 
ing much better, and was sitting up in bed clad in a 
gray wrapper of sober hue and ascetic cut, a monk- 
ish garment that he very much affected. Go 
ahead ; its fine, old fellow. I am all right now ; I 
was up to-day.” 

In his heart of hearts he felt relieved, for he had 
been screwing his courage to the sticking-place to 
tell Jack all the afternoon. '' Now I can write,” he 
thought, ''which will be so much easier for both 
of us.” 

" How long will you be away?” he said, aloud. 

" Oh, two or three days,” Jack answered, kneel- 
ing by his valise. " There’s a train at nine I’m 
going to get, but I have to go to the office again 
first.” 

He packed and made ready. He had stopped to 


The Black Lamb 


245 

tell Marion on his way up, so there was nothing to 
keep him. 

Good-by, old boy,'' he said, cheerily, preparing 
to depart. "‘Take care of yourself, and don't go 
back to work before the end of the week." 

I ought to tell him about Marion," he thought, 
as he wrung Noel by the hand. 

wish he knew," thought poor Noel. 

So the two who were wont to be so open sought 
to escape each other's eye, and parted with a slight 
constraint of which each fancied his own secret the 
cause. 

Going out, Jack met Andrew coming up-stairs. 

Look here," he said, rapidly, button-holing him, 
''stay in to-night, will you, and look after Con? 
I’m off to Boston for a day or two, and he’ll be blue. 
You cheer a fellow up so well." 

" All right," said Andrew dully, in a voice so 
altered that Jack would have remarked it if he had 
not been so preoccupied and hurried. " Good-by, 
old boy ; you'll write, I suppose ?" 

"Oh, I’ll be home before long," replied Jack, 
plunging down-stairs. " Good-by." 

Andrew, who looked drawn and weary, went 
into the sitting-room, and presently appeared be- 
tween the curtains that divided it from Noel’s bed- 
room. 

" How are you,’^ he said pleasantly, — "better?" 

Noel looked up, trembled, controlled himself, and 
21* 


246 


The Black Lamb 


answered in his ordinary voice, Better, thank 
you.” 

I have some writing to do,” went on Andrew, 
''so I’ll be right in here if you want anything.” 

Noel said nothing. He was once more shaken 
by a blast of anger, and dared not speak lest he 
should rave. He lay down and stared into the dark- 
ness. Slowly his rage cooled, and his determina- 
tion began to pulse stronger and firmer. For quite 
an hour he lay listening to the scratch of Andrew's 
pen and staring out into the darkness. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Fools we, to trust blind Fortune ! With a jest, 

Slow turns her wheel ; to every man his best 
Deals justly, but when weighted with a crime. 

How fast it spins, and rolls up interest ! 

Andrew LeBreton was beaten, and he knew it. 
For twenty-four years he had trodden the world 
trusting to his luck and his audacity ; but now the 
end was written in letters of fire on the next page. 
As a child he had stolen and lied with the same 
scapegrace unconsciousness and assurance with 
which he had lied and stolen as a man. There had 
been threatenings and escapes, yet he had slipped 
out of the arms of punishment every time. When 
Oxford grew impossible he had fled to Paris, from 
Paris, under another name, to London, London to 
Colorado, Colorado to New York. There had 
always been a new place to go to, new friends 
to make and defraud, new crooked paths to tread. 
He was gay, happy-hearted, and conscienceless as 
an animal, and like an animal he knew when he 
stood at bay. Here, to-night, he faced a short 
shrift, and realized with a creeping shudder that the 
game was up, the end in all hurnan probability very 
near. 

247 


248 


The Black Lamb 


He sat down, resting his chin on his hand, and 
tried to make a systematic review of the dangers 
of the past, and the chances of the future. The 
first, colored by his imagination, were black and 
awful ; the last certainly discouraging enough. 
Flight? He had not a penny in his pockets. The 
resource of borrowing was closed, and none other 
opened. Yet to stay where he was meant to live 
agonies of fancied detection. Even now he glanced 
fearfully at the closed curtains of Noel’s room ; he 
half suspected Noel. The letter sent to England 
nearly three weeks ago had received no answer. 
Merchant’s door was barred to him, and the 
Forbes’s. There was really nothing left but to turn 
pickpocket in the streets. 

Andrew did not call these small transactions with 
other people’s property at the pawnbroker’s, steal- 
ing. He argued that he merely found the diamond 
clasp Miss Axenard had dropped, and had held his 
tongue about it. In the crowd coming out of the 
theatre, the old gentleman’s watch, dangling loose 
on its swivel, had struck against his hand. As for 
the rest, they had been thrown in his way, and he 
had merely picked them up. He was not greatly 
concerned about them, but he would rather have 
some more certain means of livelihood. 

He might, he reasoned, sitting with furrowed 
brow and drawn mouth, carry into effect his threats 
against his mother and Merchant. But the last was 


The Black Lamb 


249 


too risky to think of, and Andrew knew his father s 
temper well enough to understand that there would 
not be any benefit to himself by the disclosure. 
And then, as he told himself, he would suffer any- 
thing, anything, rather than bring any scandal into 
the family. This was a fine sentiment, and com- 
forting to self-esteem, but it brought no solution to 
the problem of existence. 

To turn honest, to work, to open life on a new, 
clean page, this was equally impossible. At any 
time his comrades might hear the truth about him : 
the stories of his college life, the flight to Paris, the 
check, which was a very unpleasant reminiscence. 
Indeed, he wondered that they had kept ignorant so 
long ; but then they were such unworldly, shut-up 
chaps, he thought, with a species of contempt. 
No, he must go at once, he must not remain an- 
other day ; the hour of his fate was on the point 
of striking. 

He sprang up, the perspiration beading on his 
face, and then sat down again. Go? but when, 
and where, and how ? 

1 must have money V he thought, so intensely 
that it seemed as if he had spoken. 1 must have 
money I I must I” 

He looked around him on every side. There was 
nothing in that little sitting-room that was worth 
the pawning, unless he carried the furniture away 
bodily. The pipes and photographs, the well-read 


250 


The Black Lamb 


books, the few trinkets, the baskets of Mexican 
straw stuffed with newspapers, there was nothing, 
nothing! Had Noel been out of his room there 
would have been his watch and chain, and perhaps 
some money, but that was out of the question. 
Andrew sat making this inspection with an eye 
that grew desperate and dilated. He felt like one 
slipping down an inclined plane, who has felt one 
hold and another give way, and now keeps him- 
self up inch by inch by the mere pressure of the 
body. 

He searched the walls, the mantle, the very floor 
and ceiling ; and then his glance leaped upon an ob- 
ject on the table in front of him, — a crumpled check- 
book of Jack’s. Andrew lifted it with hands that 
shook, and held it under the lamp. There was one 
blank check left, for the rest were torn and soiled, 
but the sight of it lit a last desperate hope in 
Andrew’s eyes. If he could only get that check 
cashed, under the plea that Jack had left it behind 
for his sick friend 1 The color crept back to his face 
and the boyish smile to his lips. He went over to 
the desk to search for one of Jack’s letters, and to 
cover the noise of investigation started a-whistling, 
his merry, light-hearted note that cheered the heart 
so inexpressibly. 

All was silent as he came back to the table with 
paper, pens, and ink. He stepped softly over the 
floor and looked between the curtains. The room 


The Black Lamb 


251 

was dark, but he could make out that Noel lay 
quietly at full length. 

"" Asleep,'’ thought Andrew, turning back ; so 
much the better." 

He sat down, fitted one of Jack’s pens to the han- 
dle, and drew paper and ink near him. The check, 
’twas evident, must be scrawled in a hurry, as Jack 
had just time to write it before leaving. He had 
procured a letter of Jack’s with a signature, and an 
old account-book containing figures. With these 
spread before him he set to work. Once or twice 
he covered the check with his hand and listened, 
but he soon became too absorbed to do either. He 
sat with his back to the curtains in order to get the 
clearest light, and bent over his work with wrinkled 
brow and careful eye. There was not a tremor in 
his penmanship, and notwithstanding the immense 
hazard, not a sign of diminution of nerve. The 
slight excitement of haste might have been noted, 
but his hand was unwavering, and his touch sure. 
Such figures as he desired to copy were, well for 
him, remarkably clear and bold, without flourishes 
or idiosyncrasies ; he formed them repeatedly on a 
sheet of paper, and then turned his attention to the 
signature. This was much more difficult, as it had 
absorbed more individuality ; he hesitated over it a 
long time, but his dangerous facility in this sort of 
exercise helped him before very long to procure a 
copy to his liking. This done, he spread the check 


252 


The Black Lamb 


smoothly before him, laid a sheet of thin paper over 
it, and traced every letter delicately, and with infinite 
care and nicety in the place where it was ordered to 
go. He was now intent and focussed on the work. 
The signature complete, he held it at a little distance 
critically ; it was really an admirable forgery ; and 
he started with confidence on the remaining letters 
and figures. He had drawn the check carefully to 
the balance of Jack’s bank account, and his spirits 
rose as he realized how unassailably plausible it all 
was. 

The figures ended, he began on the date : No- 
vember ” A pair of long brown hands came 

softly over his shoulders and settled like gyves 
around his wrists, jerking them apart and upward ; 
and Andrew turned his frightened eyes to look 
straight into Noel’s face. 

It was no longer dreamy nor brooding. The 
eyes were open and like two pools of gray ice, the 
lips set into a stern line, and as he towered above 
the forger in his straight gray dressing-gown, he 
bore an appearance judicial and awful, so that at the 
sight Andrew’s strength flowed out of him like 
water. He twisted, his pale lips fell apart and 
closed again ; he panted, turning his eyes hither 
and yon ; but Noel did not speak. He held An- 
drew’s arms back and above his head, and he 
looked down on him with that stern, immovable 
countenance. The mere strength of his grip, slight 


The Black Lamb 


253 


enough in fact, seemed irresistible. Andrew could 
not drop the pen from his helpless fingers, and the 
glance burnt him like a flame. 

Let me go he panted at last. ** You hurt rqe ; 
let me go I” 

'"You thief!’" said Noel, lingering on the words 
and their bitter contempt, "you cowardly thief! 
Do you think I am going to let you go now?” 

"You’ll answer to me for that!” cried Andrew, 
flushed, but his under lip shook. 

"You’ll answer to me for this/’ replied Noel, 
still holding him by the wrists. 

A quick clatter of feet sounded on the staircase, 
and Lyndon Forbes opened the door. 

"Hullo!” he began, "why ” Then he 

stood, staring. 

" Forbes,” Noel said, never moving and speaking 
over his shoulder, " will you do me the kindness to 
fetch a policeman ? I want to give this man in 
charge.” 

Andrew’s head swayed forward and rested down 
on the table in front of him, but Noel still held his 
wrists wide apart and high. 

"Certainly,” said Forbes, briskly; "but what 
for?” 

"If you will look at those papers scattered on 
the table you will understand,” explained Noel, 
with deliberation ; " it is the last of his thefts.” 

As Lyndon, still puzzled, stooped to gather up 
22 


234 


The Black Lamb 


the check, Andrew made a tigerish dash for it with 
one of his chained hands, failed, and laid his head 
on the table in front of him again. Forbes glanced 
at him, at the paper, and whistled. 

'' ril get a man at once,'’ he said in an altered tone 
to Noel. I won’t be long. You can keep him ?” 

Noel nodded, gravely, deliberately, as he had 
done everything, and Lyndon plunged down the 
staircase. 

As the sound of his footsteps died away, Andrew 
once more lifted his face and turned toward his 
captor. 

Conway !” he cried, in desperate appeal, you 
can’t mean to send me to jail, — think !” 

I have thought,” came the low reply. 

Think !” Andrew begged, passionately, turning 
his gray face to right and left, rolling his head to 
and fro on his shoulders in his helplessness. I’m 
beaten, I give in ; I’m humiliated enough, surely ! 
Oh God, I’ll go to my last account soon enough 1” 
Noel remained scornfully silent. 

'' Spare me for my mother’s sake ! Your 
mother’s !” The tears poured over his cheeks. 
'' We’re brothers, Noel, brothers !” 

Then, indeed, Noel was shaken from his calm. 

You do well to speak of my mother to me !” 
he cried, in a sudden gust of violence. ''You! 
What is she to me that I should spare you because 
she cares for you ? Did you have any pity on me 


The Black Lamb 


255 

when you blackmailed her with my name? 
Brothers ! I have been fooled and duped by you 
long enough, Andrew LeBreton ; you have had 
your game and laughed in your sleeve at my sim- 
pleness, now it is my turn !” 

Andrew once again dropped his golden head on 
the table, and said not another word. 

When Lyndon re-entered, bringing with him a 
rather interested police-officer, both men were 
utterly silent. Andrew remained so while he was 
being handcuffed by the sergeant of police, a man 
well known to the journalist, and a person of few 
words. 

''You will have to come with us, and make 
your charge,"' he remarked to Noel. 

" He can’t," interposed Lyndon, quickly. " The 
man’s been ill, — he’s just out of bed, — and it’s 
raining." 

" Will you go for me ?’’ Noel asked him. " Here 
are the papers, the forged check ; and here," he 
took them from his pocket as he spoke, "are the 
pawn-tickets of some other thievings, and your 
gold pencil, Forbes." 

"Noel!" cried Andrew, sharp and high, "don’t 
do this ; don’t send me to jail 1 Have some pity I 
Think I" 

They took no more notice of him than if he had 
not spoken. 

" I’m very glad you found this out," said Lyndon, 


The Black Lamb 


256 

wringing Conway’s hand, "'for I’ve suspected, not 
this, of course, but something, for a long time.” 

"He fooled us from the moment he set foot in 
the house,” said Noel, savagely, "and he asks for 
pity! You don’t know half, Forbes, not half!”’ 

"I can guess,” said Lyndon, grimly, laying his 
hand on Andrew’s shoulder and pushing him 
roughly. " Come on, McGee. Good-night, Con- 
way. I’ll be round to see you in the morning with 
the papers, y’know. Take a rest now, my lad, or 
you’ll be sick again.” 

So they went away, and Andrew LeBreton spent 
that night in the Tombs. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


Said Vishnu to Parbati the divine, 

“ Behold, the passions of the world are thine ; 

Thou may’st sway each man’s temper, woman-wise, 
Sweeten or spice to each his jar of wine.” 

For the understanding of what follows it is 
necessary to retrace a little, and accompany the 
letter which Andrew had sent to England upon 
the 2d of November. Lady LeBreton received it in 
due course, and suffered under the blow it dealt 
with an intensity which only the later impressions 
of her life had developed. Her devotion to her 
step-son was as much of a piece with her char- 
acter as had been her neglect and desertion of 
her own. Plainly, she was one of those who 
develop the virtues of life in proportion to their 
state of prosperity. In the old Indian days when 
the present was a stringency and the future an 
uncertainty, the minor excellencies, such as affec- 
tion, steadfastness, and constancy, had been swal- 
lowed up in overweening ambition, self-pity, and 
greed. But once established in comfort, settled in 
a rich nook and satisfied with her position. Lady 
LeBreton was very ready to pour out upon the sons 
of the man to whom she owed this satisfaction 
r 22* 257 


238 


The Black Lamb 


all the attachment that her Southern nature really 
contained. Let us do her the justice to allow, 
however, that there were other causes. 

When she parted from Noel, she left a child 
interesting in character only to a far deeper student 
of human nature than his mother. A silent, unde- 
veloped, unattractive boy, with none of the graces 
or prettinesses of his years, neither bold of tongue 
nor buoyant of temper, with an education to which 
her attitude was disapproving, and with odd mor- 
bid fancies of which she was intolerant. She read 
in him no resemblance to herself, and had not been 
fond enough of her husband to cherish the real 
resemblance. The likeness, in fact, was an under- 
prick of mortification to her ; and it was true the 
child was an encumbrance. 

As Lady LeBreton, however, she found herself in 
the relation of mother to a couple of yellow-haired, 
rosy-cheeked, boyishly charming lads, frank and 
winning. She saw too little of the elder, although 
sincerely attached to him, to feel a difference ; but 
Andrew kept from school by delicate health, An- 
drew, with his winning ways and precocious naugh- 
tiness, his blue eyes, sunny curls, and merry face, 
became her pet and her darling. She spoilt him 
by every method and in every particular that is 
possible to an injudicious mother. She shielded 
him from his father’s anger, which was swift and 
heavy, she begged off his punishment for lying, and 


The Black Lamb 


259 

when he underwent solitary confinement in the 
school-room, she smuggled cakes and '' goodies’" to 
him by the maids. Her attitude of constant deceit 
for his sake was a perpetual neutralizer of the 
effects of any correction on that score which the 
child received. The audacity and daring reckless- 
ness of the boy excited her vaguely to admiration, 
his denial of a fault with those innocent eyes so 
steadily upraised always nonplussed her utterly, 
and his precocity in childish evil filled her with a 
species of pride at his smartness. He was attractive 
as a child in much the same way as he was attrac- 
tive as a young man, — always devotedly affection- 
ate and amiable, in small matters considerately un- 
selfish, full of winning frankness and charm, merry 
of face, ready of tongue, open and clear of eye. 
His faults had always seemed those farthest from 
calculation, and he was quick to turn her affection 
to his advantage by his careful support of those 
amiable qualities she loved in him. All through 
the trials of his home-kept, stormy boyhood she 
stood his friend, sent him clandestine sums of 
money during his college days, and seemed utterly 
broken when disgrace terminated them ; less, it 
would seem, from the iniquity than from the result 
that it parted her from her boy. Her husband, to 
whom his son’s career had been a shock never to 
be forgotten or forgiven, was stern and complete 
in his anger, and remarkably keen of sight as to 


260 


The Black Lamb 


the cause. But Lady LeBreton, just as she had 
really believed herself in some sort a martyr for 
abandoning her child, now really believed that 
Andrew was only weak and careless and had been 
led astray. The facts of the elopement and the 
forged check did not for an instant change this 
impression, or give her any insight whatever into 
the depth of calculation and deliberate immorality 
that Andrew LeBreton really possessed. Her son 
had been equally duped for a time, but she would 
remain duped till the judgment. 

This attitude of mind had an element of the pa- 
thetic that made Sir Robert LeBreton, certain of 
his own determination, hesitate to impose any 
command upon his wife. Most men would have 
hesitated in view of the circumstances, and Sir 
Robert LeBreton surest of all. So he tacitly per- 
mitted their correspondence, and, although, of 
course, he never spoke of or alluded to his second 
son, did not interfere with his wife’s wishes in 
the matter. 

In time Andrew’s repeated carelessness and in- 
gratitude took effect even upon Lady LeBreton. 
She refused point-blank to help him, and might 
have stood fast in this resolution but for his letter 
threatening her with disclosure. This frightened 
her no less that her knowledge of her husband had 
increased. She knew his unswervingly just and 
upright temper, and felt that the truth would not 


The Black Lamb 


261 


be softened to him by the addition of so many 
years’ deceit ; a fact at the outset certainly innocent 
had perforce taken a darker hue during the past 
years, and was even harder of explanation. So the 
foolish woman scraped and stinted to send the 
blackmailer money, and felt repaid by his loving 
letters with their bright prospects, and promises of 
future amendment. 

The last letter, however, transformed her at a 
stroke into what she was not, — a brave woman and 
a devoted mother. She read between the lines a 
despair which made her fear the worst, and in the 
grip of that fear she took a sudden resolution. 
With the letter in her hand she went into her hus- 
band’s study and laid it before him. 

Robert,” she said, bravely, ''you see this is 
our last chance. If we do not save him now we 
never shall.” 

Her husband, picking up the paper, heard her 
breathing catch hysterically, and his face grew dark 
as he read. He knew Andrew, and he knew just 
what such a letter from Andrew was worth. 

" My dear,” he said, gently, patting her hand, that 
beat the desk with impatience,’" do you not know 
this wretched boy by this time ? Do you take his 
words for the truth ? I am his father, Adele, and 
yet I say frankly that I have never met a worse man 
than this son of mine. I am cruel, perhaps, but it 
is the truth. I have done my uttermost to save 


262 


The Black Lamb 


him, you have done more than your duty and your 
uttermost to save him, and what has been the 
result ?” 

'' We must bring him back !” she cried, tears in 
her eyes. '^He has had his lesson, Robert; his 
letters lately have been so penitent, — oh, don’t 
shake your head ! — so truly remorseful ! Let us 
bring him back and forgive him, and give him one 
more chance !” 

'' Adele,” said the baronet, '' it would be no use.” 

If we let him go now he will be lost forever,” 
she sobbed. '' Robert, do let me go to him, let me 
plead with him ! Oh, I am sure he will be all you 
wish !” 

Sir Robert looked at his wife, and his heart sof- 
tened. He was an admirable man with a golden 
grain of mind. Just as he was, his son was still his 
son, although he felt the uselessness of the trial. 
He had before this pardoned, and overlooked, and 
stood in the fire of shame and disgrace ; but was 
there not a command after all about seventy times 
seven ? He rose and paced the room. 

I should not be more unforgiving than she, 1 
suppose,” he murmured, and then turned to her. 

I cannot hold out my hand to Andrew after his 
conduct,” he said, decidedly ; ‘Mt has gone too deep, 
and my honor has suffered ; but if you wish to 
try and save him, I shall not forbid you. Mind you, 
he cannot be brought here ; he is unworthy to enter 


The Black Lamb 263 

his home again ; but if you succeed, I shall help you 
to give him a last chance/' 

will take the next steamer/’ she said, hur- 
riedly, drying her eyes. 

There is no use sending him money for his 
return,” said her husband, grimly; know him 
too well for that ; but perhaps — I only say per- 
haps — your love may touch him to some purpose 
and lead him to some good. I pray it may ; but no, 
I do not believe that it will.” 

He is your son,” she protested, and he is only 

a boy. Young men are always wild ” 

He interrupted her firmly : My dear, if Andrew 
had been merely wild you would not hear me 
refuse to admit him to my house. Debts and col- 
lege frolics, perhaps a more serious escapade, I 
could have overlooked ; but the utter ruin of a 
home, the lack of honor, the deliberate forgery, 
these are of another color. No ; he is my son, but 
if 1 do say it, he is a hopeless blackguard, the biggest 
that ever bore the name of LeBreton, — and this I 
can never forget nor forgive. I know perfectly well 
that he will be just the same when you bring him 
home as he is in America, but I am going to let you 
try, because it is your wish, and because — ah, well, 
my dear, you saved him many a beating when he 
was a lad, and, woman-like, you want to do it 
again.” 

Thus it was settled. Sir Robert, although he 


264 


The Black Lamb 


consented to let her take the journey, forbade her to 
write Andrew of her plans. 

''You may find the true condition of his affairs 
if you take him without warning,’' he told her, 
" otherwise you might as well stay at home.” 

The letter had reached Surrey on the loth. Lady 
LeBreton sailed for New York the 17th following on 
the "Campania.” Her husband wished her good- 
speed, but gave her little encouragement on her 
errand, and advised her return as soon as possible. 
The " Campania” got into New York harbor late 
in the afternoon of the 22d, the passengers were 
landed during the evening, and the first thing that 
Lady LeBreton saw when she picked up the morn- 
ing paper of the 23d was the account of Andrew’s 
career, theft, and discovery, with Noel and jack’s 
names in full, and other details. Lyndon Forbes 
had written the article, and it was graphic and un- 
mistakable. 

Just about the hour when Lady LeBreton, in a 
pitiful state of mind and body, got into her cab to 
present her letters and make her inquiries, Noel 
dragged himself down to Mr. Axenard’s office. He 
could not afford to assume any airs of convalescence, 
and, weak or no, felt that advice must be obtained 
at any hazard. The day was clear and pleasant, 
he was feeble, but did not note any ill-effect of last 
night’s excitement. Mr. Axenard was in, and Noel 
did not have long to wait before being admitted to 


The Black Lamb 


265 

the private office. He told the whole story, reserv- 
ing only their family connection, and begged Mr. 
Axenard’s advice and assistance in carrying the 
affair to a conclusion. They had a long talk, in 
which the elder man expressed his complete ap- 
proval of Noefs conduct from first to last. 

It was atrocious, scoundrelly !” he said. You 
must give every proof, Conway, and get the fellow 
a long sentence. There is more behind it all, evi- 
dently. Frey was in the office a day or two ago 
trying to get Musgrave’s — LeBreton is it? — address. 
He seemed much excited about some affair in which 
he thought LeBreton was concerned.’' 

Did Mr. Frey see Andrew Noel asked, in 
surprise. 

No ; he finally said he would write. He 
was very much worked up ; but then you know 
Frey ; — ” and Mr. Axenard smiled. 

Well, 1 think 1 must go home and rest,” said 
Noel, rising. Tm not quite well yet. Don’t let 
me keep you, and thank you very much.” 

Not at all ; 1 am glad to be of any service. 
Sartoris is away ? 1 hear great things of him from 
his employers. My wife was asking after both of 
you only yesterday. Pray come and see us ; we 
moved in town two days ago.” 

Thus kindly he ushered Noel out, but rest for 
that young gentleman was far off as before. At 
his room he found Forbes with a note-book and 
23 


M 


266 


The Black Lamb 


pencil, an increased restlessness, and an avalanche 
of questions ; and he had formally to make his 
charge. So his day, hour by hour, was an exhaust- 
ing one. 

Ten minutes after Noel left Mr. Axenard’s office 
Lady LeBreton entered it. She had been sent there 
by the consul as to a reliable source of informa- 
tion, and during the half-hour’s interview learned 
all there was to know, the charges against Andrew 
and the various aspects of the case. Mr. Axenard’s 
position had often led him into like conversations, 
but this one puzzled him. Lady LeBreton had 
shown a deeper distress at the fact that Andrew 
was in prison than at the sin which took him there; 
and she had moments of such confidence and de- 
cision, spoke so hopefully of the future, that her 
hearer wondered if she quite understood all the 
charges meant. She was particular in her ques- 
tions about these charges, and curiously relieved in 
manner when she found that so far Noel Conway 
alone was the person who made them. Added to 
this she was hysterical and excited, indeed, Mr. 
Axenard, speaking to his wife later, described her 
conduct as flighty.” The shock of it has unset- 
tled her for the moment, 1 suppose,” he said, com- 
passionately. 

And 1 do not wonder,” his wife echoed. 

"'Young Conway looked cut up by the whole 
business,” continued her husband; "he has been 


The Black Lamb 267 

sick, and the strain has been trying. But I am glad 
he has been so firm.” 

Musgrave ! that charming gentlemanly fellow !” 
Mrs. Axenard remarked. '' 1 cannot get over it ; so 
delightful, so full of spirits \” 

"'He was a monster!” cried Philippa, indig- 
nantly. He fairly lived off of them, mother, and 
borrowed their money I They were far too gener- 
ous.” 

" Most unwisely so,” said her father. " If I had 
known, — if Sartoris had only consulted me, — my 
advice would have been energetic.” 

" But, father, how could they know he was such 
a scoundrel?” Philippa protested, earnestly. "You 
yourself saw how little he looked it. And one 
doesn’t naturally suspect one’s intimate friends of 
stealing.” 

" When you get to be as old as I am, my dear, 
you suspect anybody of anything, — a saint of murder 
and a sinner of martyrdom, — with an equal chance 
of justice. I should be no more surprised to hear 
that the last murderer had a passion for floriculture, 
and was devoted to an aged mother, than I would 
to hear that our bishop was a bigamist. We’re 
made like rag carpets, Phil, in little strips, and only 
the fastest colors show in the wear.” 

Philippa said nothing. Her thoughts ran to 
Noel ; she wondered if he was very sad or very 
lonely. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


Goddess of young hours, cold and pure as ice. 

Fate stakes and throws thee toward me, on cogged dice. 

I am all ready with my hoarded love. 

What dost thou ask of me, — a sacrifice? 

The object of her thoughts was in verity happier 
than he had been for many days. True, he was 
quite wrung and weary, the strain of so many ex- 
citements left him dulled and numb, but at least the 
long day was over and he was free to rest. He 
missed Jack horribly, and fell a-musing as to what a 
sensation his letter, written late the night before, 
would produce in that young gentleman’s expe- 
rience. After all, in a day or two they would be 
able to talk it over and to take up the old life where 
they had left it, rid of their protean old-man-of-the- 
sea, with faces turned once more upon their own 
dear and narrow circle. 

Noel heaved a sigh of relief that the intolerable 
work was done, pulled the couch near the lamp, 
gave the fire a purposeless masculine poke, and 
turned up the light. Then he threw himself down 
contentedly, spread a red afghan over his knees, 
and plunged into the jungle Book. In two minutes 
268 


The Black Lamb 


26<) 

he was on the other side of the world and walked 
at home. Contact with the file of this Western life, 
greed and ambition, had turned him a little from 
the trend of his daily thought, now he recovered it 
with an exquisite delight. His face, as he read, 
smoothed out the lines of hate, anger, and bitterness 
stamped on it since yesterday, and became thought- 
ful and dreamy once again. And the sun beat on 
the curved roof of the temple at Raithapoor, and 
the crowd of worshippers swayed and parted, and 
the yellow-robed, calm-eyed adepts passed through 
them into the fragrant inner darkness. One part 
of his imagination dwelt on this picture, beyond 
and behind the vivid pictures of the book in which 
he was absorbed. 

In the midst of it all the electric bell quivered, 
and he threw down his book with a cry of vexation. 
Forbes, of course, with more questions, and another 
note-book and pencil : would they ever let him 
alone? He determined not to move, or in any 
fashion to make the intruder welcome ; and when 
a hand tapped on the door, he said Come in in 
no inviting voice. It was not Forbes. 

Noel raised himself on one arm and stared, for- 
getting to rise. There in the open door-way stood 
a tall, handsome woman with a cloak of snow-white 
fur pulled over her shoulders. Her face, although 
not youthful, was striking, the hard brightness of 
the eyes seemed akin to the brightness of the jet 

23* 


270 


The Black Lamb 


ornaments that covered her gown ; she had kept 
through life a fondness for all that shone and tinkled. 
In her hair, hardly threaded with gray, flashed a 
diamond comb, and other jewels shone rather ob- 
trusively at her throat and wrists. He was not 
near enough to notice the haunting anxiety of her 
eyes. She stood still, smiling at him with a smile 
which she tried in vain to make easy and uncon- 
strained. 

Noel rose slowly to his feet, puzzled and hesi- 
tating. '"Did you wish to see me?'' he asked, 
courteously. "I do not think I have had the 
pleasure " 

"Noel," she said, taking one step toward him, 
" do you not recognize me ? lam your mother !" 

He stared at her blankly, and then caught the 
corner of the table with his hand, and held on. 
The surprise, the shock, the happiness, flooded him 
with tumultuous thoughts. He forgot her deser- 
tion and the bitter taste of his life ; he forgot his 
scorn and his just indignation. She was there, 
his mother ; she was sorry, she was ashamed, she 
needed him ; — she had come to tell him so. 

"lam your mother," she repeated, and held out 
a hand to him. Slowly, with great passionate 
eyes, he drew nearer, took her hand, and clasped 
her in his arms. Then all the banked-up pain in 
his heart gushed out in foolish, childlike words. 

"Oh, mother, mother, is it you?" he cried. 


The Black Lamb 


271 


incoherent with gladness ; have you come at last? 
Oh, I have wanted you, 1 have needed you ! I have 
been so lonely, mother ! mother I Where have 
you been ? Why did you not come before ? Oh, 
if you knew 1 It is you? it really is your- 

self at last? My mother, my darling mother!’' 

The sacred name, the beautiful word, he could 
not get it off of his lips. His head dropped on 
her shoulder like a repentant child’s, and the tears 
stood bright in his eyes. What mattered how 
they parted if they were together again? She 
stroked his forehead softly with her limp, brown 
hand, and made no resistance to his embrace. Per- 
haps she was touched ; perhaps she waited. 

Oh, are you glad to see me?” he cried, at 
length, looking into her eyes. I have wanted you 
so badly, mother, you cannot imagine 1 And now 
you have come back to me!” 

My son !” she said, caressingly, my great tall 
boy !” And she laid her lips lightly on his forehead. 
She could not have foreborne all emotion, no 
woman could. For the boy was so gaunt and 
hungry-eyed, piteous, with such a mighty love in 
face and voice, and such a pathetic joy in calling 
on her name ; she could not remain entirely cold 
under it. Moreover, the drama of the situation 
stirred her, and she had a conscientious desire 
to be artistic in her part. So she kissed him, 
and that kiss lay on Noel’s soul like a rose and 


272 The Black Lamb 

comforted him : all things seemed made possible 
by it. 

His eyes dwelt on her face with a gloating tender- 
ness. This was his mother, yet it was not the 
radiant vision of his dreams, nor the spirit that had 
shone plain to him for one moment in the Mexican 
hut. Even in his tangle of new emotions he real- 
ized the difference, but it spoke only to his mind, 
and left his heart untouched. For her part, she 
stood passive in his arms, feeling a sort of helpless 
terror at the young man's height and strength, his 
dark face so like his father’s, the intensity of his 
eyes. 

**You have come at last,’' he murmured, and 
she made an effort, and laid her cheek close to his 
for a second. Then she drew away gently and dis- 
engaged herself of her cloak, throwing it over a 
chair. ''And now let us talk,” he said, drawing 
her down beside him on the sofa, and putting one 
arm about her. " This is your place here, beside 
me : this is where you should have been always. 
Oh, mother I” he cried, "there is so much to 
tell! oh, mother, where have you been all these 
years ?” 

She smiled on him indulgently, still touching his 
forehead with her soft hand ; but if he had looked 
closer he would have seen that her eyes never 
warmed, never changed, never brightened to the 
flame of his. He did not look, he was so whirled 


The Black Lamb 


273 

about by this strange happiness that he only held 
her fast, and a pause fell between them. 

"'So you have missed your mother?” she said, 
at length. 

" I have died without you,” replied he. " 1 have 
not been kind, dear. 1 have had harsh thoughts, — 
I had lacked so much. But now 1 see you really 
care, I must beg you to forgive me.” 

"Yes, yes,” she replied, graciously, " we will 
forgive and forget what is past, for now it lies in 
your hands, Noel, to make me the happiest woman 
on the earth.” 

He shivered under the ecstasy of happiness these 
words brought. He was alone no longer : he, too, 
had a mother and a home. 

"If it is only that!” he whispered, brokenly; 
" mother, you are not going to leave me?” 

There was a dim remembrance in his mind that 
she had other ties and another world. He dreaded 
lest he should find this vision true. 

"Not for a while, — not yet,” she answered, 
smiling still. Her hand strayed into his dark hair 
and played with it. "Noel, dear!” she said, ca- 
ressingly, " 1 must speak to you — about Andrew.” 

Noel’s face clouded. " Oh, don’t let us talk or 
think about that now !” he said ; " let us have this 
moment just to ourselves, you and 1. The dis- 
agreeable things can come afterwards. These are 
my rooms, mother, do you see? There is my 


274 


The Black Lamb 


father’s picture. Jack lives with me, but he is 
away. Jack Sartoris, you know, — the colonel’s 
son.” 

'' Noel, my dear son,” she repeated, unaltered, I 
must speak to you about poor Andrew.” 

**You have heard what he did?” Noel said, turn- 
ing for her sympathy ; how he deceived and fooled 
me, and blackmailed you? Oh, mother, you were 
far too good to him. It was an infamy !” 

‘"We must forgive, dear.” She spoke in her 
gentlest voice. 

Forgive?” he repeated, ''after he has fooled 
me and robbed me right and left, — me, his friend ? 
Oh, yes, I will forgive him when 1 see him in State’s 
prison.” 

" You are not going to send him to prison ?” Her 
voice, calm as she strove to keep it, trembled a 
little. " He is so young, Noel ! And then the ruin, 
the shame of it !” 

" But you do not know ; he forged a check ” 

Noel began, and then broke off. " Ah, don’t let us 
think of it ! Mother, we have so much to tell each 
other, let us talk of something else.” 

She drew him toward her and parted the hair on 
his forehead, looking into his eyes. The action was 
playful, but her lips were quivering nervously. 

"My boy has grown so manly and splendid,” 
she said, "and so like his father I Why, when 1 
left you were such a little sprout; but I should 


The Black Lamb 275 

know you anywhere. I am sure you are not vin- 
dictive, Noel ; he never was. I am sure you are not 
revengeful ; you do not really wish to ruin poor 
Andrew forever.'' 

But, mother " he began, puzzled. For the 

first time he felt repulsed ; the brightness died out 
of his face. You have not heard the truth of all 
this," he said, quietly, moving a little away. 
'"Andrew came to us last spring, and since that 
time he has borrowed constantly of us and of our 
friends. Notwithstanding that we supported him, 
he stole and pawned our belongings, he discovered 
my relationship to you and played upon it, and 
finally 1 caught him in the act of signing Jack's name 
to a check. It is surely just that all this should not 
go unpunished." 

At his decided tone she grew more agitated. 
This quiet, determined man was not the force 
she had reckoned on. "But remember, he is so 
young!" she cried, fluttering about, trying for rea- 
sonable objections and falling back upon helpless 
entreaty, "and prison means eternal disgrace, now 
and forever 1 Noel, I am sure he has had his les- 
son. I will answer for him if you let him go this 
time." 

" Why should you concern yourself about him ? 
What is he to you?" said her son, with drawn 
brows and a gesture. " He is merely your step-son, 
and a blackleg at that I" 


276 


The Black Lamb 


He took the place of my own dear child when 
I was forced to leave him/' she replied, the ready 
tears coming into her voice. I grew to love 
him. Why, Noel, he represented you ! And now I 
have come to my boy to ask him for his brother's 
life." 

He is no brother of mine !" cried Noel, flash- 
ing. '"He is a liar and a blackguard! Mother, 
you don't understand, you don't know what you 
are talking about. Let it go. We have this little 
time together ; let us be happy !" He took her 
hands, but she drew them away roughly. 

"We cannot be happy while Andrew is in 
prison," she replied, with a concentrated intensity 
in her voice. "Noel, his father, Andrew's father, 
adores his son. He has never harmed you, — he 
is my husband, — give him back his boy!" She 
threw her arms about her son's neck and strained 
him toward her. 

His face, always impassive, gave no hint of his 
feelings, but a blackness grew and deepened in his 
eyes. "I must be going crazy. I do not under- 
stand," he spoke suddenly, not to her but out into 
the air. "This boy has blackmailed you and — I 
can't save him — what can I do ?" 

"You can withdraw your charge !" She spoke 
fast and hoarsely into his ear. "No one else has 
made any ; I asked. Withdraw yours, Noel ; let 
me take him home, — take Andrew home 1" 


The Black Lamb 


277 

** Withdraw my charge ? Deny my own word ?” 
He looked wildly at her. ''You can't mean that. 
It’s impossible. You don’t understand, — you don’t 
realize.” 

" 1 ask you for poor Andrew’s life,” she repeated, 
weeping. "Your mother asks you, dear, — your 
mother I” 

He gave her a side-long glance and repeated the 
words after her with a perfectly indescribable ac- 
cent. " My mother asks me, — my mother I” He 
loosed her arms from about his neck and sat still. 
" I must think,” he said, — " I must think. Mother, 
do you love me ?” 

The words were a cry. "Dearly, dearly!” she 
protested, hanging over him ; " so much that I can- 
not bear a stain to rest on you, — the stain of ruin- 
ing that young, fresh life. Listen,” she went on 
rapidly, " I cannot see you turn so deliberately from 
your duty. Noel, 1 will not be behindhand. I will 
tell Sir Robert, and for Andrew’s sake he will for- 
give me, as he will forgive Andrew for my sake. 
We will all go away together, you and Andrew and 
1. He will love you, and you can be of so much 
use to him ; and if you wish reward, I will brave my 
husband’s anger to reward you I” He was almost 
too dazed to notice how Andrew’s welfare ran 
under this speech like a golden thread. He rose 
suddenly, and stood by the mantel-shelf while she 
clung to him. 


24 


278 


The Black Lamb 


You ask me to sacrifice my honor!'" he said, 
looking at her. Do you mean it?” 

I love you so, — 1 will love you forever 1’^ She 
wept and hung on him. ''Heap coals of fire on 
our heads, Andrew’s and mine 1 My boy, we will 
never leave you. If Sir Robert drives me away, we 
will all three go together, — we will be everything 
to one another, Noel I” 

He did not seem to hear her ; his face had a 
settled quiet on it as if he had gone beyond the 
scene of the present into a higher place. She 
fawned upon him, kissing his hands and wetting 
them with her tears ; then she heard him murmur 
to himself. 

"Give me Andrew!” she begged. "My noble 
son, my boy, give me Andrew !” He spoke at last 
in a voice as void of expression as a brazen instru- 
ment. 

"1 will withdraw my charge,” he said, and put 
up a hand commandingly to stem the extravagant 
torrent of thanks and blessings she poured out. 
The gesture was in another character, and she 
felt a little overawed by the constraint of his man- 
ner. 

"lam going to Mr. Axenard’s the day after to- 
morrow,” she said. " We cannot do anything on 
Sunday, but on Monday they will send and release 
Andrew, and we shall thank you together. 1 knew 
you would do your duty, my brave boy I” 


The Black Lamb 


279 


*'You wish me to see him?” Noel spoke very 
slowly, feeling for his words. 

^^Oh, yes, you must go there, you must tell 
them 1” she said, eagerly, as she threw on her 
cloak. am to be there at three on Monday; 
they will send to the prison. You will be there at 
three ?” 

At three.” 

*'Of course, you will not speak of our relation- 
ship? I will explain later.” 

She pulled her cloak around her, and then turned 
and clung about his neck with the first impulse of 
real affection she had felt during the interview. 

Good-by till Monday !” she whispered. '^Thank 
you, my boy !” 

Then she went out, and Noel heard the rustle of 
her dress grow faint and fainter on the staircase. 
He stood were she had left him, blank, uncompre- 
hending. Then the truth rushed upon him all at 
once, and the bitterness and the meaning : that she 
had not come there for him, but for Andrew ; that her 
caresses were not for him, but to save Andrew ; that 
her love was all for Andrew, Andrew, Andrew ! 

The room whirled in giddy circles ; he groped for 
a chair, and fell into it, laying his arms out upon 
the table with his head bowed upon them. Shaken 
to the soul in his utter agony of loneliness, he prayed 
to die where he sat. Then Andrew’s face and his 
mother’s faded out into a merciful unconsciousness. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


The hunter sets forth ; at his belt swings low 
His curving dagger^ so that all may know 

He goes well armed : then forward, singing. Fool ! 

Is the blind lightning an ignoble foe? 

Early on the morning of Monday, the 24th, 
three men ascended in the elevator to Clement 
Frey’s apartment. It would be unwise after a 
superficial glance to brand the three with that all- 
embracing term of gentlemen,” since they seemed 
to hold neither expression, class, nor occupation in 
common. Their only similar interest was a smile 
of tolerant contempt, which was marked in different 
degrees on the three faces. The author came out 
on the landing to meet them, his pasty face bearing 
traces of a moving excitement. One of the visitors 
shook him cordially by the hand ; an elderly man 
with eye-glasses, a red face, and an important 
manner. The other two merely bowed, and some- 
what doubtfully at that. One was a sharp, rat- 
nosed little man with an irrepressible underprick of 
curiosity, the other a lean and weary individual, 
quite hazy and formless as to feature and manner. 

Frey led the way to his study, which had been in 
280 


The Black Lamb 


281 


a manner prepared for guests. Chairs were set, the 
table, cleared of eccentric periodicals and French 
novels, bore only writing materials, and the servant 
entered at that moment with bottles and glasses. 
The host was brisk and smiling, and wore a flower 
in his button-hole. 

"‘Well, gentlemen,'' was his greeting, “let me 
thank you for being on time ; it's a virtue 1 utterly 
lack myself, but I appreciate it in others. You 
understood my note ?" 

“Not exactly, Mr. Frey," said the elderly man, 
who seemed more in sympathy with the author 
than the others, probably from a kindred passion for 
usurping the conversation. “ You wrote, if my 
memory serves me, that you wished to see myself 
and Mr. Patterson” — he waved a hand toward the 
rat-nosed man — “relative to the " Hamburger - 
" Antarctic' collision, and suggested that we should 
avail ourselves of the services of Mr. Beeber here." 

Mr. Beeber, the weary individual, here consulted 
his watch, with a look at Frey, which intimated his 
opinion that he was wasting valuable time. 

“I shall not keep you," Frey said, sharply, “ and 
I will make what I have to say as short as I can, 
which, by the way, is, I do not doubt, just what 
Burke said before the impeachment of Hastings." 

“The collision is such a thing of the past,” said 
Mr. Patterson, whose expression, particularly at this 
allusion, grew more and more disapproving, “ that 
24^ 


282 


The Black Lamb 


I cannot imagine Mr. Frey’s " discoveries/ whatever 
they may be, can alter materially our suit against 
Train, Vanbrugh & Co. Of course 1 do not know, 
but it strikes me that at this late date ” 

‘"Pardon me, but I am more concerned in this 
affair than in merely supplying your firm (for which 
I do not care a dime) with information,” said Frey, 
severely. “I have carried on a very exhaustive 
investigation for some months, on lines that no man 
has yet attempted, and I am the best judge of its 
importance.” 

Mr. Patterson was irritated, but crushed. Frey 
continued: “The suit of your firm is really so 
trifling an affair that it had escaped my memory. 
What I have to say may or may not alter your 
course. To mince no words, I have become con- 
vinced that this collision was not an accident ; not, 
I mean, the result of chance or negligence, but, 
on the other hand, deliberately planned, and inten- 
tional.” 

He paused to mark the effect. Mr. Beeber had 
thrown himself back, and was, still wearily, attend- 
ing to the remarks ; the other two had changed color. 

“Intentional!” ejaculated the older man. 
“ Criminal do you mean ?” 

“Certainly,” replied Frey, suavely, “ very crimi- 
nal indeed. And the man at the bottom of the 
whole business was none other than the engineer 
of the ‘ Hamburger,’ the so-called Gordon.” 


The Black Lamb 


283 

His listeners would have spoken, but it was a 
daring and difficult task at any time to interrupt 
Clement Frey. He crossed his legs, shifted his 
position, and plunged into the thick of his story. 

won’t bore you by detailing my first suspi- 
cions,” he began, but they lighted on a man all of 
you at least know by name, — Roderick Merchant.” 

You mean Vanbrugh’s partner,” said Patter- 
son, eagerly, — the man who is over here now?” 

"'That man,” affirmed Frey. *"An incident 
showed me when in London that Merchant had 
been betting heavily and against big odds on the 
^Hamburger.’ The thing stuck in my memory as 
an inconsistent recklessness on the part of a man 
who had a name for shrewdness. He had with 
him at the time a young blackguard, who, I see by 
Saturday’s paper, has gone to his proper place at 
last, — young Andrew LeBreton. Merchant supplied 
him with money at the time I speak of, they were 
very intimate, and that boy had the dash of Roland 
and the innocence of Becky Sharp. Well, last 
spring an accidental remark of mine frightened 
Merchant so markedly that I began to suspect. 
What gave him the fright, apparently, was my tell- 
ing him that 1 had been present at the investigation, 
Gordon’s examination, and so forth. So, remem- 
bering that Gordon was an avowed protege of Mer- 
chant’s, I just took it into my head that Gordon 
was in Merchant’s pay, since Merchant seemed to 


284 


The Black Lamb 


have benefited largely by the accident. This fell 
through, partly on the terrible risk Gordon ran, but 
more from the fact of his complete disappearance 
at Southampton, a disappearance that left me no 
chance to prove my case.’’ 

Clement Frey took breath and looked at his 
audience. It gave the most marked and respectful 
attention. 

'"Then 1 tried for another cue,” he said, '"and 
another plan. It is too tedious to give details, but 
the results were plain. I found, in the first place, 
that at the time of the trial trip Merchant stood on 
the edge of bankruptcy. A fortnight after the col- 
lision the wheel turned, he appeared relieved, 
claimed to have made money by a lucky specula- 
tion, paid off a number of his liabilities, and sailed 
for America, ostensibly on business. 

He made a big mistake to choose America, of 
course, but 1 fancy he had an eye to a rich girl. 
However that may be, 1 found by careful inquiries 
from a great many sources, that from the exact 
date of the 'Hamburger’s’ departure from South- 
ampton to the day when Gordon landed and disap- 
peared in England Merchant was supposed to be in 
the Tyrol. When I got this information I made a 
thorough search through Tyrolese inns and villages, 
and found, as 1 expected, that no man answering to 
Merchant’s description had been in that country at 
that time. My search was thorough : it precluded 


The Black Lamb 285 

mistake. Our friendship, Merchant's and mine, 
gave me innumerable occasions to add to my list of 
proof. 1 found that engineering was a hobby of 
his ; I saw him manage a steam yacht at Bar Har- 
bor, I heard him discuss the engines of the * Ham- 
burger' in a tone of absolute familiarity. In a hun- 
dred ways like these he delivered himself to me. 
But I did not feel certain enough to act on my infor- 
mation until nearly a month ago, when I caught 
LeBreton threatening him for money. I wrote 
LeBreton to come and see me, but he took no 
notice of the letter, and was not at home when I 
called. But I remembered that he had been a pas- 
senger on the ' Hamburger’ — and well, I put my facts 
together, gentlemen, and you can draw the results.” 

He looked about him triumphantly, but the men 
were silent. At last Mr. Beeber spoke. 

"'As I take it,” he said, slowly, "Gordon was 
Merchant ?” 

" Merchant was Gordon, of course,” said Frey; 
"and, moreover, I ended by recognizing his voice. 
I will take my oath on it, and so will my friend Mr. 
Jermyn, and I have sworn it in taking out this war- 
rant for the man's arrest.” He flung the warrant 
on the table, and Mr. Beeber whistled. 

"Well,” he said, with a note of admiration, 
" you've done for him now, I guess.” 

"You have papers and letters proving all this, I 
suppose ?” asked Patterson. 


286 


The Black Lamb 


Frey pointed to the table. Every one of them. 
The innkeeper s statement, the list of his wagers 
taken from his betting-book, — that was my only 
theft. You will find them complete.’’ 

'"The only thing against your theory,” said the 
elder man, magisterially, is the great risk of such 
a plan.” 

"‘Not if you consider that Merchant was a des- 
perate man,” said Frey, impatiently, ''that it was 
jump or nothing with him. And then he had an 
accomplice on board ; and he knew that nothing 
could be proven against him. Discharge was noth- 
ing ; he was prepared for it. Improbable? Why, 
of course it’s improbable, that’s the beauty of it ; 
the man’s a general benefactor. Anything’s prob- 
able in this camp of a city, but this wasn’t. Why, 
the thing’s as plain as Pope.” 

"Then the only thing wanting,” said the elderly 
gentleman, puzzled, "is Mr. Merchant himself.” 

Frey looked at the clock. " We shall not have 
to wait long,” he said, gently ; " he will be here in 
just five minutes.” 

The two gave a visible start at this, and Mr. 
Beeber straightened himself and looked about him 
with an alert air. 

"So that’s what you wanted me for?” he 
remarked. 

" If you please,” said Frey, politely. 

Mr. Patterson, evidently desirous to obliterate his 


The Black Lamb 287 

first attitude, observed that, although he was no 
lawyer, it struck him as a clear case. 

Thanks,'’ the author replied ; but I rely more 
on the surprise than I do on this evidence. When 
Merchant sees how things are, I fancy he will give 
us the rest." 

A pause fell after this, which lasted until the elec- 
tric bell quivered. The elderly gentleman started 
at the sound. 

Dear me," he said, nervously, 'Mf he should be 
violent, Mr. Frey ?" 

"'No fear," said Frey, reassuringly. "'Mr. 
Beeber will see to that ; and he will not be violent. 
Seriously now, is this information going to affect 
your suit ?" 

" 1 cannot tell until 1 see our counsel," replied the 
person addressed, still fidgeting ; " but 1 fancy " 

‘"Hullo, Merchant!" cried Frey, buoyantly. 
""Come in ; these are my friends." 

Mr. Merchant strode into the room with his 
agreeable smile, and bowed to the three, who had 
arisen spasmodically. 

"" Sit down," said the host, cheerfully, "" and take 
something to drink." 

"" Thanks, awfully," said Merchant, glancing at 
the trio. "" I say, Frey, who ?" 

"" ril introduce you presently," said Frey. He 
poured something into Merchant’s glass and handed 
it to him. Then he laid a hand lightly on his friend’s 


288 


The Black Lamb 


shoulder. Come he said, authoritatively, tell 
us all about your share in the ' Antarctic collision.” 

The glass dropped like a stone out of Merchant’s 
fingers. 

'"Yes,” went on Frey, standing over him, 
"we know all about it, — where you were during 
that little trip in the Tyrol, and why Gordon dis- 
appeared the day you turned up. There’s no use 
denying it, for the whole game is up, and LeBreton 
will tell if you do not.” 

Still Merchant kept silence. He laid his head 
back and stared upon the ceiling with unwinking 
eyes, like one suddenly deprived of sense. 

" Speak, man !” commanded Frey, shaking him. 
" It’s all up, do you hear ?” 

" It’s — not — true !” shouted Merchant, leaping to 
his feet. 

" Oh, yes, it is,” said Mr. Beeber, politely. " This 
is the warrant for your arrest, and here ” Some- 

thing chinked in his pocket. 

Merchant looked him in the eye, and sat down 
again. With a certain aplomb for which none 
would have given him credit he managed a fair 
control of face and voice. He laid his head back, 
as if too weak to hold it up, and looked at the ceil- 
ing. Frey, watching him with relish, was conscious 
of disappointment. 

"What is it you want to know?” Merchant re- 
marked, indifferently. 


The Black Lamb 289 

** How you did it/’ said Patterson, marvelling at 
the quiet of the man. 

"'LeBreton suggested it. He always was a devil. 
You don’t fancy I would ever have thought of such 
a thing by myself, do you ? He planned it, and the 
pure audacity of the thing made our chance. I was 
to go in deep and take any odds. We arranged it 
all before we sailed.” 

But the fog ; you couldn’t arrange that ?” 

''Oh, of course, chance turned in our favor,” 
Merchant replied ; " but we knew the ' Antarctic’ 
wouldn’t be far off at any time, and I was prepared 
for any risk. As a matter of fact, the whole thing 
was easier than we dreamed.” 

’ " Yes,” said Frey, " if I had not been present at 

Gordon’s examination ” 

" If you hadn’t dogged me and spied me,” Mer- 
chant interrupted, viciously. " Sneak !” 

There was another and a heavier silence. Mer- 
chant presented an attitude of perfect bravado, and 
the three men .watched him. He neither blustered, 
nor begged for mercy, nor contributed one item to 
the dramatic interest of the situation. Mr. Beeber 
broke the pause. 

"Well, gents,” he said, with decision, "this is 
all very interesting, but I’ve my work, and I sup- 
pose I’d better look after this gentleman for the 
present.” 

"You needn’t put those things on me,” said 
N / 25 


290 


The Black Lamb 


Merchant, listlessly, as the speaker approached him. 
'"I’m beaten, and I can’t afford to run away. But if 
I am beaten,” he cried, savagely, 'Mt’s by a low 
Yankee trick, that’s what it is !” 

Mr. Patterson and his senior declared their inten- 
tion of going at once to their lawyer’s office. Frey 
accompanied them to the elevator. At the door 
Merchant turned to him suddenly. 

Look here,” he said, you’re not going to let 
LeBreton off, are you ? He’s in it as much as 1 am ; 
he planned the whole thing, first to last.” 

‘^'He is safe in the Tombs,” Frey replied. ‘^'No 
need to bother about him till he comes up for 
trial.” 

""Not so safe,” said Merchant, bitterly; ‘"his 
step-mother’s in New York trying to get him out, 
and she’ll do it, too. I met her this morning, just 
before I came here, and she has persuaded the man 
to withdraw his charge ” 

""Who, — Conway?” said Frey; ""that freak? 
Why, how did she manage that ?” 

"" They may be some connection,” said Merchant. 
""Now 1 come to think of it, her name was Con- 
way before she was married. Anyhow, she says 
LeBreton will be let out this afternoon.” 

""He will not!” declared Frey, firmly. He ran 
back to his study, and returned in a few minutes, 
folding a note. “Give that to Thompson at the 
Tombs, will you?” he said, handing it to Beeber. 


The Black Lamb 


291 

'' He’ll keep LeBreton there until I want him. Good- 
by ; go ahead !” 

Merchant shot him a vindictive look, and was 
marched away by Mr. Beeber, whose arm was linked 
affectionately in his. 

Clement Frey went slowly back to his own room 
with a disgusted face. “ Of all the inartistic black- 
guards,” he declared to the empty air, “ that Mer- 
chant is the worst. After all my efforts, to repay 
me so lamentably. It’s enough to sicken one with 
life r 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


“Yea, I have done thy will; I would be made 
Master of mine inheritance unstayed ; 

See, at thy feet revenge and honor lie 
“ And I will pay thee as thou shouldst be paid !” 

Lady LeBreton presented herself at the Axenards' 
punctually on the toll of three. She looked radiant. 
Mrs. Axenard and Philippa, who received her, pri- 
vately thought her an unusually handsome woman, 
to whose looks their husband and father had done 
little justice of description. Her dress was fashion- 
able and gorgeous, perhaps just a shade too gor- 
geous; her manner left little to be desired. She 
spoke of Andrew with such love and hopefulness 
that Mrs. Axenard was touched, although Philippa, 
with provoking clearness of gaze, was conscious of 
a certain impatience. 

‘Mf I had a son who was a polygamist,’’ she 
thought, would not speak of him as though 
he had never been married !” 

Mrs. Axenard had been surprised, and not quite 
pleased, when she heard from her husband that 
their house was to be made the meeting-place of 
mother and son. The idea struck her distastefully, 
and as unnecessary. 

292 


The Black Lamb 


293 

‘"Why could she not have him brought to her 
hotel she asked. Why meet him here ?” 

‘"Apparently Lady LeBreton dreads the publicity 
of his arrival at a hotel/' he made answer, with a 
shrug. “At all events she wished it, so I had 
nothing to say.” 

“ She must be a ” His wife hesitated for a 

word at once graphic and polite. 

“It’s a kind of prodigal son party,” murmured 
Philippa, “ with Mr. Conway served up as the 
fatted calf.” 

“ Conway is the person 1 do not understand at 
all,” declared her father, walking his appointed path 
on the carpet. “ He was set on LeBreton’s prose- 
cution yesterday, to-day he is entirely ready to let 
him off.” 

“ Perhaps Andrew’s mother appealed to his feel- 
ings,” suggested Philippa, ever ready to defend. , 

“ Pooh !” said Mr. Axenard. “ Why should the 
entreaties of a perfect stranger affect him in the 
balance with such injuries he received at LeBreton’s 
hands? That’s nonsense. No. What I fear is 
that he was too hasty in the beginning, and has not 
got such evidence as he thought, so that now he is 
anxious to get out of it.” 

“I do not think ” his daughter began, but 

just at that instant her mother called her to come 
down-stairs and receive their guest. Mr. Axenard 
followed more slowly. He was not a little put out 

25* 


294 T'he Black Lamb 

at the whole business, vexed at the possibility of a 

scene,’" and with his confidence in Noel greatly 
shaken. The young man’s unaccountable change- 
ableness marked to his mind a wavering purpose 
which he distrusted. 

He always seemed a fine sort of fellow,” he 
thought, going down-stairs, but queer, and you 
can never trust an oddity.” 

Lady LeBreton, it has been said, was loud in her 
gratitude, her protests, her assurances, and her dis- 
tress. She was nervous and excited, to which con- 
ditions her listeners charitably credited much that 
did not please them in her rapid, fluent words and 
phrases. 

Half an hour before, Mr. Axenard had despatched 
Lyndon Forbes in a cab to fetch Andrew ; the pre- 
liminaries of his release had been arranged earlier in 
the day. Lyndon had gone under vehement pro- 
test, but only too glad in reality to be the centre of 
such a coil. 

There was nothing for the people in Mrs. Axen- 
ard’s parlor to do but wait till he returned, in vari- 
ous stages of unrest and discomfort. Philippa and 
her father sat silent. Mrs. Axenard listened to a 
catalogue of Andrew’s virtues, — it did not suffer 
because one of his vices would have been more 
picturesque, — his charm as a child, his warm- 
hearted disposition, his amiability, his good humor. 
There had been a fire not very distant, and the 


The Black Lamb 295 

muffled, uneasy throb-throbbing of an engine at 
the corner seemed to fill the room with restlessness 
and motion ; Philippa grew nervous. 

I wonder if this is the way people feel in books/’ 
she thought. 'Mfs like a funeral while you’re 
waiting for the coffin to be brought down-stairs.” 

Just then the door-bell rang — with a sudden 
decided peal that made everybody jump — and Noel 
came in. Contemplating him, Philippa felt a leap of 
alarm and uneasiness, yet too indefinite to describe. 
He was much as usual ; he said a few words to her 
father, bowed in silence to her mother and Lady 
LeBreton, and went over to the window, where he 
stood looking out. 

She had only seen his face for one instant, yet she 
noted a difference. In all his moods, and she had 
seen him in many, his eyes had never worn just 
that expression. After his arrival the silence 
seemed to grow denser than ever ; every one listened 
to the uneasy sound of the distant engine, and 
looked away from their neighbor. 

''How long will it take Lyndon?” asked Mrs. 
Axenard, subduing her voice. 

" He ought to be here in fifteen minutes now,” 
replied her husband, consulting his watch. 

Lady LeBreton rose, and going over to the win- 
dow, spoke to Noel, asking after his health, hoping 
he was quite recovered, and so on. Her manner 
was almost caressing ; Philippa noted it with a sensa- 


The Black Lamb 


296 

tion of disgust. What business had that woman to 
ask Noel how he felt, to lay her hand on his arm, 
to look up into his face? "'Anyhow,” thought 
Philippa, " he doesn’t like it.” 

And, indeed, his manner, as he looked over 
Lady LeBreton’s head to the wall and answered her 
briefly, was almost rude. The self-control with 
which he had bitted himself was not to be loosed 
by any trial. The minute-hand crept over the 
clock ; every one but Noel showed a plain discom- 
fort, when the door-bell rang again. 

" Is it Andrew ?” cried Lady LeBreton, starting up. 

"Hardly yet, I think,” Mr. Axenard replied, 
going to the window. "No, there is no carriage. 
Perhaps it is a message.” 

The visitor, overcoming the evasive resistance of 
the servant, walked jauntily into the room ; it was 
Clement Frey. 

" And how do you do ?” he said, breezily, put- 
ting down his hat and smiling on the company. 
"Congratulate me!” 

Mrs. Axenard, knowing him, made a desperate 
effort to introduce him to Lady LeBreton, who stood 
in shadow, but failed to get the words out in time. 
Clement Frey was on his talkative horse, and it car- 
ried him fast. 

" It’s all over. Miss Axenard!” he cried to Philippa 
with stunning rapidity. " I’ve sprung the trap 
and it caught, beautifully ! Merchant caved in at 


The Black Lamb 


297 

once, flung up his hand, confessed the whole. 
WeVe got it all out of him, — the plot between 
him and his accomplice, — and they’re both safe in 
the Tombs. He ” 

""Roderick Merchant!” cried Lady LeBreton, 
shrilly. But Clement Frey was deaf and blind. 

""It was all a plot between him and young 
LeBreton,” he proceeded, gesticulating, ""and a 
deuced clever one ” But this time he was suc- 

cessfully interrupted. 

"" Andrew!” cried Andrew’s mother, coming for- 
ward. "" What has he to do with all this ?” 

""Lady LeBreton,” murmured Mrs. Axenard in 
Frey’s ear, and the horse was pulled in with a 
jerk. 

""lam very sorry,” he said, haltingly embarrassed 
for once, ""but — I am afraid he has a good deal — 
you see — the thing was a criminal conspiracy, and 
Merchant and your son will have to stand trial.” 

""But it won't make any difference?” she cried, 
nervously. ""He will come? They’ll let him out 
just the same ?’’ 

""Let him out?” echoed Frey, understanding for 
the first time, and looking around for help. "" Oh, 
no ; of course not. I’m sorry, but of course he 
will be detained on this second charge.” 

""Oh, no, Mr. Frey!” cried Philippa, springing 
forward, for the rest were silent. "" Don’t say that ! 
He’s been sent for; his mother’s waiting !” 


298 


The Black Lamb 


Tm awfully sorry/' he said, looking at her with 
a changed face, "'but it can't be done, you see. The 
steamship company are wild about it. They won't 
let him off." 

Lyndon Forbes had entered unnoticed as Frey 
was speaking. Lady LeBreton turned to him in 
mute appeal. 

"I’m awfully sorry," he repeated, avoiding her 
look, "but Mr. Frey is quite right. They will not 
let him go, Lady LeBreton ; he is detained on the 
charge of fraud. I tried my best ; it’s no use." 

A blank silence fell upon the party, none of whom 
seemed able to express their feelings. The men 
stood awkwardly, Frey visibly discomposed ; Phi- 
lippa reached for her mother’s hand and wrung it. 
Lady LeBreton stood with blazing, indignant eyes. 
Then she turned slowly. " I see I was mistaken,” 
she said in a hard voice. " Mr. Conway led me to 
suppose that his charges would be withdrawn. I 
fancied him a man of his word.” 

Philippa started to her feet, but her mother held 
her. Mrs. Axenard was not so astonished as the 
rest, — she had noted her guest’s eyes and mouth. 
In the pause that followed this speech, Noel came 
forward and stood looking down at the speaker. 

"I do not understand," he said, simply; "my 
charges were withdrawn.” 

She laughed scornfully. "Of course," she said, "it 
is so easy to let Mr. Frey make them in your stead." 


The Black Lamb 


299 


But I assure you ” Frey began. 

She checked him. "'That will do!’' she said, 
emphatically. "You cannot make me believe that 
this honorable young gentleman has not gone back 
on his word.’' 

Noel looked at her very quietly. The others, 
distressed, puzzled, and a little horrified, drew away 
from the group. 

"You believe that I have broken my word?” 
said Noel, slowly. 

She turned on him with swift, flaming anger. 
"Thank God, Andrew is no sneak!” she cried. 
"In all his unfortunate recklessness at least he 
was a gentleman !” 

She turned away abruptly and addressed her 
hostess: "There is no need for me to wait. The 
carriage is at the door. I will trouble you no 
longer. Thank you all so much,” pressing Mrs. 
Axenard’s hand. "1 shall never forget your kind- 
ness.” She put on her cloak with hands that fum- 
bled and shook, and her face betrayed an anger 
that even in the presence of strangers she had only 
imperfectly controlled. 

"You have no plans?” said Mrs. Axenard, pity- 
ing her. 

" I shall go back to England after I have seen my 
boy,” she said, sadly. " The sooner the better.” 

As she went into the hall, Noel, of all the others, 
followed her, holding out his hand. 


300 The Black Lamb 

''Good-by, Lady LeBreton,” said the son. 

"Liar!'' said the mother. She gave him one 
look from head to heel that burnt like fire. "lam 
going to my son 1" she said, flinging the words at 
him, and went out. 

He heard the door close after her and the carriage 
roll away before he turned. When he did, he saw 
that Philippa stood beside him. 

"Do you believe that?" he cried, making a vio- 
lent gesture at the closed door. 

"Noel, Noel, of course not!" 

The reserve was stripped from her for the 
moment. She held out a hand to him, and her eyes 
were bright with tears. 

"You heard what she called me; that was my 
mother," said Noel, looking at her with blank eyes. 
" Yes, she needed me, as you said she would !" 

"Can 1 help you? oh, can 1 help you?" cried 
poor Philippa. There seemed nothing for her to 
say. 

"No, thank you; you are very kind, but you 
cannot help me, Philippa,’’ he replied, in that very 
quiet voice. Then he turned away as Mr. Axenard 
called to him, and his step was that of an old man. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


Life’s last bolt wins, although it be the least : 

’Tis the last wine-cup that breaks up the feast. 

The last short mile that turns the stag to bay ; 

’Tis the last straw o’ercomes the burdened beast, 

Lyndon Forbes went home with Noel, and tried 
to show in his nervous way how distressed he really 
was at the whole business. Lyndon had a queer, 
inconsistent sort of liking for Conway, apart from 
his interest in him, a hidden boyish admiration of 
his size and appearance, and respect for his mental 
attainments. Had he chosen to confide in any one, 
he would have found in Forbes a sympathetic 
listener ; but Noel was very silent, not inclined to 
discuss the affair, and giving Forbes no opening. 
Only when they parted, Lyndon found heart to say, 
jerkily, Of course you know nobody believes 
‘what that confounded woman said, old fellow, so 
don't worry yourself about it. Everybody knows 
it was perfect rot." 

'' Thanks," repliedNoel, briefly, wringing Forbes’s 
hand. 

The door of the sitting-room was open when he 
climbed to it, and there in the door-way was jack, 
newly arrived and as cheerful as possible. 

26 


301 


302 


The Black Lamb 


''Hullo!’" he cried, gladly. "Just got in; you 
didn’t expect me, did you ? I got your letter and, 

oh. Con ” In another tone, "Are you all 

right? You look played out.” 

" I’m tired,” said Noel, listlessly, flinging him- 
self into a chair. 

"No wonder, with all this to go through by 
yourself,” declared his friend, sympathetically. 
"You might have knocked me over with a feather. 
Con, when your letter came ; and yet I wonder 
we didn’t suspect him before. Blackguard!” Jack 
hammered the table. " I suppose he’s in jail ?” 

" Oh, yes, he is there.” 

" Going to stay, I hope?” 

" For a few years at least. When did you come ?” 

" Half an hour ago. I came up here bothered 
about you. It’s been the very deuce of a mill. 
Con. Are you all right?” 

" Oh, I’m pretty well,” Noel answered, with a 
twist of irritation. " You’ve seen the papers !” 

" Yes ; the Record,’' Jack laughed softly, " Lyn- 
don’s making his fortune anyhow, so that’s one 
person benefited. Tell us all about it from the 
beginning.” 

When Jack had received the events in their con- 
secutive order, he burst out, — 

"I cannot realize it! Was there ever such a 
brute? Con, if I were you I should be awfully 
angry.’" 


The Black Lamb 


303 


'' I was at first/’ said Noel, wearily ; but it has 
burnt out, and now it is too much trouble to be 
angry any longer.” 

He paused, and then went on slowly, as if speak- 
ing his thoughts, — 

Even my anger, you see, does not last, — a piti- 
ful fire of straw. 1 must have been born numb. 
People seem so far off to me. 1 was fond of Andrew. 
I tried at first to save him. 1 would never have 

exposed him if it had not been And, after all, I 

was sorry. You’re the only real person in this 
queer, empty city. All the rest are shadows ; 
they eat and drink and make money — shadow-food 
and shadow-money — and for the idea that leads 
them they will not give a thought. We let such 
little things hinder our chelaship. I am tired of it 
all.” 

''You are not well, that is it,” commented Jack. 
" You need a change.” 

"1 thought if you could get off later for a day 
or two we might go somewhere,” said Noel, — " into 
the woods by ourselves, as we used. Anywhere 
out of this brutal city.” He roused a little as he 
uttered the words. 

Jack changed color and fidgeted with the handle 
of his valise. • "I don’t believe I could just at 
present,” he said, confusedly ; " we are pretty busy 

now and ” He broke off and plunged into some 

other subject. Then he rose and looked for his hat. 


304 


The Black Lamb 


''Going out?” asked Noel, looking up. He had 
fallen into a revery, with his head laid back on his 
chair. 

"Yes,” answered Jack. He went to the door, 
hesitated, and then came back. "The fact is,” 
he said, flushing, "I’m going to be married, old 
fellow.” Noel looked at him as an animal might. 
" You congratulate me, don’t you?” said Jack, hurt 
at his silence. "It’s Marion, and she likes you, 
you know.” 

"I wish you every happiness, old boy,” said 
Noel, in quite his ordinary voice. " She is a very 
sweet girl.” 

" She is the very sweetest girl in this city !” cried 
the lover. " And of course, you know, it is not going 
to make any difference between us, my getting 
married.” 

"Of course not,” said Noel, gently. 

So Jack departed to see his betrothed with his 
mind rid of its burden, and free to be filled with 
happiness. And he was very happy. 

Mrs. Forbes was enchanted that Marion had 
chosen a gentleman, and not one of the heaven- 
gifted musicians or political refugees that Lyndon 
was always bringing to the house. She greeted 
Jack graciously enough, while Lyndon folded him in 
his arms with a mock-heroic emotion, and the 
small brother clamored to call him Jack at once. 
The Forbes’ were not rich, and as Marion was her- 


The Black Lamb 


305 

self a bread-winner, did not regard the match as an 
imprudence. 

There was altogether much excitement in the 
family at the engagement. Various aunts and 
cousins wrote Jack congratulatory letters and Marion 
advisory ones. Mrs. Forbes and Lyndon kept out 
of the way with praiseworthy constancy, and Jack 
had no cause to reflect on the circle he was about to 
enter. The Axenards were delightfully sympathetic 
and kind, although they seemed a trifle stiff to Noel. 
In his present sensitive state he fancied a change in 
them, which may have been true more or less. 
Even Clement Frey’s repeated assurances that Con- 
way was not even aware of the investigation he had 
undertaken could not rid them of the impression 
that Noel had acted inexplicably. Philippa might 
have told, perhaps, but Philippa’s lips were sealed 
upon the matter. Mr. Frey had been profuse and 
voluble in his exoneration ; but he did not like 
Noel, and thought his conduct ridiculously fickle : 
and just as Mr. and Mrs. Axenard were, they felt 
too much in sympathy with this view to escape 
being tinged by it. They did not, of course, 
believe what Lady LeBreton said, but they did not 
understand the scene, and were doubtful of an 
explanation. 

So the hospitable house knew Noel no more, and 
when Philippa saw him, which was seldom, his face 
gave her no sign. In the fire of that trial his desire 
26* 


u 


The Black Lamb 


306 

for sympathy and comfort had been so strong that 
he had felt his whole nature wheel toward the girl 
to ask for hers. But that moment had passed, and 
he was now too dull and numb to seek for its 
revival ; there was nothing left in him, he thought, 
to care for any one, only for the quiet life, the peace 
under the stars. 

Jack wished to be married at once, and Marion 
saw no objection. She could not alford anything 
in the nature of a trousseau, and as we have 
nothing to wait for,” she said, simply, "'why 
wait ?” 

These two young people prepared for married 
life with the most refreshing imprudence : scorning 
the almighty dollar with an almighty scorn, and 
undergoing no wise obstacles from a family as im- 
prudent as themselves. Mrs. Forbes had married 
on a very little, and her happiness had been very 
large, so that she saw no reason why her daughter 
should not do the same. Dear Mrs. Axenard dis- 
charged her duty in one serious talk with Marion 
on the subject of her "fearful recklessness,” and 
after that was done, dismissed the subject forever 
and plunged heartily into the preparations for the 
wedding. Her husband teased her, and, indeed, 
she confessed to a little stream of romance which 
freshened her heart: "and it is so pleasant,” she 
said, "in these days of dollar-worship to come 
across such an old-fashioned pair !” 


The Black Lamb 


307 


Jack and Marion, meanwhile, set forth hand-in- 
hand into the unexplored country of each other's 
nature. They discovered much, slept at night full 
of brave resolutions, rose in the morning full of 
strength and happiness. And, seeing Marion curb 
her saucy tongue lest Jack should think her a shrew, 
and Jack his lordly irreverence lest Marion should 
lose an atom of her pride in him, those who watched 
them were inclined to prophesy happiness, even 
when the first bloom was rubbed off by the years. 

Noel went through these days as a soldier marches 
under orders through a desolate and fever-stricken 
country. Marion, in her warm-hearted way, was 
particularly gracious and kind to him, putting her- 
self, as it were, in his place ; and he unbent to his 
uttermost with her, while Jack's joy was increased 
by the content of his friend. So Noel marched on, 
knowing that the battle was to come. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


Like children in a brook, our souls we lave 
Deeper in life and her best vintage crave. 

His bowl is wine and honey, mine is gall ; 

Yet which of us is hero, and which knave? 

To his great surprise, and not a little to his indig- 
nation, the newspapers did not take that view of 
Mr. Frey’s behavior in the matter of the Merchant 
arrest which he expected. They did not seem to 
appreciate his artistic interest, and one or two of 
them commented quite coolly on his friendship with 
the criminal. No one excused Merchant ; all allowed 
that the author s suspicions had been worked to a 
daring and brilliant conclusion, but there was a 
general impression that the manner had been un- 
derhand. Altogether the affair had the result, if 
any, of making- Frey even more unpopular, and of 
referring to him with that air of contemptuous vir- 
tue which the press assumes toward those against 
whom it has no charge, but of whom it does not 
approve. This attitude, be it borne in mind, was 
entirely apart from his work, which was winning 
him friends, and a name each day more exalted. 
Few men of forty in any country wrote theirs so 
high. 

308 


The Black Lamb 


309 

Clement Frey was very angry, and wrote several 
concise and dignified letters to the newspapers, 
which the admirers of his style cut out and pre- 
served. In future days these letters may go down 
in Choice Specimens of Literature'' along with 
lunius and Swift. But he soon found that it was 
as useless to fight the press as the giant squid, that 
has a new arm for every one cut off, and covers his 
retreat in a dark liquid. When the trial came up, he 
gave his evidence fully and clearly, and was compli- 
mented by the judge on his constancy and method. 
It was due chiefly to his evidence that the sentence 
of fifteen years’ hard labor was not mitigated: nor, 
all things considered, was it deemed severe. 

It was in the interval that Mr. Frey decided to ask 
Philippa Axenard to be his wife. He had seen com- 
paratively little of her lately, — she was absorbed in 
Marion’s approaching wedding ; but once deter- 
mined that he wanted a wife, he guided himself 
into love with Philippa, and pushed himself in. 
His respect for her had risen to the top notch during 
late events ; she flattered his pride and satisfied his 
mind ; she was handsome enough, well-born, dig- 
nified, and cultivated, even he could not require 
more. The thing seemed so entirely suitable that 
he felt no hesitation. He went to see her many 
times, had many delightful talks with her, and no 
man was more utterly dumfounded than he when 
she gently but positively refused to listen to him. 


310 


The Black Lamb 


But you have not thought, you surely have not 
thought!” he said, standing over her. We suit 
each other so admirably ! You are the only woman 
for me, and my tastes have always seemed in accord 
with yours.” 

Philippa hesitated. She knew that her parents 
would be pleased if she accepted Frey ; she foresaw 
with perfect clearness the position in the world she 
coveted, the world of culture and letters which she 
would obtain as his wife ; she knew that in every way 
it would be a most suitable and admirable match : 
and she had no words to say why she declined it. 

am not poor, you know,” he persisted, as she 
kept silence. have a little, and I make a little 
more ; enough to be quite comfortable. We could 
be delightfully Bohemian, live in Europe if you pre- 
ferred ; I know all the clever set in London, and 
they would appreciate you. Or we could travel, 
and have a splendid time. And I love you, Philippa ; 
I do really 1” 

"‘You added that as an after-thought,” she said, 

’ with a smile, looking up at him. 

“I didn't!” said he, indignantly. “It was the 
first thought of all !’' 

“ Well, I would like to marry you,” said Philippa, 
meditatively, “ and I wish I cared enough for you to 
do it ; but I don’t, Mr. Frey. Oh, I know it would 
be admirable, and papa would be pleased ; but, you 
see, I don’t love you. I’m sorry.” 


The Black Lamb 


It would come later/’ he said, doubtfully. 

No, it would not/’ said Philippa, quietly ; "" you 
are a man of the world, and you know that it never 
does.” 

I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” said Frey, in 
an injured voice; you like my work, and you like 
me. You are the only clever woman I know, — 
clever in my way, I mean. Why, think of the 
cases in history 

Yes/' interrupted Philippa, stemming his flood 
of impossible comparisons, know. There’s 
Abelard and Heloise, and Cleopatra and Julius 
Csesar, and George Sand and Alfred de Musset, 
and many more strikingly similar cases. But, you 
see, they did ; I don't. That’s the difference.” She 
laughed as she spoke, but Mr. Frey did not appear 
amused. There was a silence, during which he 
drummed on the chair-back, 

‘‘So there’s no hope for me?” he said, more 
earnestly than he had yet spoken. 

Philippa shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she re- 
peated, “ but there is not any.” 

“You were always so discriminating, I hoped 
you might get to like me in the right way,” he said, 
rising. “ But, of course, that’s the end of it.” 

He took his hat, and wrung her hand, then 
turned back for one more question. 

“ Is there anybody else?” he asked. 

do not think that question is exactly fair,” 


312 


The Black Lamb 


Philippa replied, slowly. But no, there is no one 
else, Mr. Frey.” 

He left the house with lagging steps, and spent 
the balance of the day shrouded in unusual and 
gloomy silence. A fortnight later Philippa saw that 
he had sailed for Europe, and heard that he intended 
to spend the winter in Egypt. 

At Christmas she received from him a copy of 
his new book with a little note begging its accept- 
ance. When she had read it she was torn between 
two surprises, — first, that she had ever dared to re- 
fuse the author, and, second, that the man she had 
refused was responsible for this new classic. For 
in the exquisite delicacy of it, the old-world fancy 
and the dainty feeling, there was surely no trace of 
the Clement Frey she knew. 

Marion’s wedding took place in Christmas week, 
and Philippa was her bridesmaid. It was the very 
gayest little festival imaginable, although entirely 
out of the scope of the society reporter. No great 
folks came to it, but then there were no jaded 
faces, and Jack did not think the worse of his bride 
that she had helped to sew on her own wedding- 
dress. jack, for his part, was straight and proud, 
and serious, the likeness of his father, glad and 
humble together at his own happiness. In the 
matter of gifts, although she had many, the chroni- 
cler feels no liberty to expose them to the gaze of 
the outside world. For it is mortifying to relate 


The Black Lamb 


313 

that Marion did not receive one diamond tiara, nor 
even a string of perfectly matched pearls. These 
last could hardly have pleased her more than 
Philippa’s gift of a set of china, with innumerable 
dishes of every size and shape, or Lyndon’s of a 
chafing-dish, or her mother’s outfit of linen, much 
of which Mrs. Forbes had herself embroidered. 
Marion thought herself an extremely lucky person 
to receive so much, and her face was so radiant 
under its crown of golden hair that a tiara would 
have been superfluous. 

They all went back to the Forbes’ for a very 
merry little breakfast, not in the least appalling as 
such functions are apt to be, and did full jus- 
tice to Lyndon’s extravagance of champagne. The 
groomsman and the best man drew the corks, and 
everybody wished everybody else long life and 
happiness. 

The home of Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris had been 
found in a tiny apartment, an absurd doll’s house 
of a place,” Philippa called it ; but which in point 
of situation, convenience, and rent Marion pro- 
nounced a marvel. She had draped the curtains 
herself, and made the lamp-shades ; had chosen the 
furniture, hung the pictures, and would have laid 
the carpet if Jack had let her. Her wedding-gifts 
gave it quite a distinguished air, her drawing-board 
and work-basket made the atmosphere homelike at 
once ; in fact, Marion declared that she quite longed 

o 27 


The Black Lamb 


3M 

for the honey-moon to be over that she might start 
housekeeping. 

They were only to be gone a week, as Jack told 
Noel, and they would be back in no time. And 
you must remember, old fellow, that our house” 
(it is impossible to indicate Jack’s accent as he said 

our house”) is to be your home.” 

They departed the afternoon of their wedding- 
day by the prosaic medium of the Elevated, looking 
like a boy and girl off for a holiday. Lyndon 
showered rice upon them from an upper window, 
and Mrs. Forbes waved them farewell till they were 
out of sight. Theirs was, after all, a very humble 
little romance and hardly bears the recording. 

Noel went home by himself and climbed the 
stairs wearily. There was a withered white bou- 
tonniere in his button-hole ; he flung it down as he 
entered with a gesture of disgust. All day he had 
been much as usual, — silent ; but then Noel was 
always more or less silent, yet outwardly content. 
Philippa had gone up to him and chatted a little, 
and asked rather nervously if he had been seeing 
spirits” of late, he was so quiet ; and he had turned 
on her with one of his sudden, vivid expressions. 

'"Why do you laugh and say that,” he said, 
" when it is you that do not understand ?” 

She had not answered, being puzzled and pained, 
and his face had put on its mask again. Once she 
thought she saw that beaten look creep into his 


The Black Lamb 


315 


eyes, but it was for the merest second. Otherwise 
she marked little change in him ; he had not talked 
to her, he was less cynical on occasions when he 
had been wont so to express himself, and he was a 
little more absent and dreamier than usual. 

It was almost dusk when he gained his room. 
He did not light the lamp, but threw himself into a 
chair, catching his breath as if from a sudden stab 
of pain. The shadows in the room crept near, and 
enveloped him until his face was hidden in them ; a 
grim loneliness caught him by the throat. The 
room was silent; far down the street came the 
whirr and clang of the Broadway cars. Every now 
and then came a sound on the stairs that might be 
Jack’s step or Andrew’s whistle, — Andrew’s merry, 
jovial whistle, — but they never came to the room. 
Noel sat listening, — listening for these, — but the 
room remained horribly silent ; the step was that of 
a passer, and went on ; the whistle, too, echoed 
along the street and died away ; and yet no hand 
was laid upon the door. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


Broken of heart, bereft by fate and friend, 

To the eternal snows my footsteps tend. 

Peace, is there peace, Boudh, in thy nothingness? 
This is the end of all, — the end, — the End ! 

One evening a week later a tiny spark far up 
under the roof proclaimed to the world that Mr. 
and Mrs. Sartoris were at home. Marion lit the 
lamp herself, thinking the act symbolical, watched 
anxiously as the flame rose clear and steady, gave 
jack an ecstatic hug, and looked about her with 
contented eyes. This really was home. She stood, 
her hand in his for a moment’s silence full of bless- 
ing for both, then returning to life, she took her 
work-bag and sat down under the light. This 
was the first evening of the new life, and to inaug- 
urate it Philippa was coming to take tea. To-mor- 
row Jack was to go back to the office and Marion 
to her task of designing : to-morrow was the work- 
a-day world, but to-night was Eden and Paradise. 

Isn’t it quite pretty?” she asked Jack modestly, 
glancing about her. 

Pretty?” he echoed. My darling, it is beau- 
tiful, because it is exactly your taste.” 

316 


The Black Lamb 317 

** It is very good of you to say so/' she said, 
happily. 

Not at all. You always had an exquisite taste, 
Marion/’ said Jack, seriously. Anything you do 
has an individual charm.” 

Do you really think that ?” said Marion. 

I really do.” 

‘'Then 1 think you are the dearest boy in the 
world. JackT 

The door-bell rang, and Mr. and Mrs. Sartoris 
started apart with much dignity as the new maid 
brought in letters. 

“Why,” Jack said, picking one up, “this is 
from Con. Poor old man, I must ask him to tea 
to-morrow, Marion.’’ 

He tore the letter open while speaking, read a few 
words, and turned aside with a shocked face. 

“Oh, Jack!” cried Marion, jumping up, “what 
has happened ? What is it ?” 

“Read that!” he said, thrusting the letter into 
her hands, and going over to the window, where he 
stood with unseeing eyes. But Marion read no 
farther than he had done ; her thoughts jumped to 
action. 

“Quick!” she cried, catching his arm and 
shaking it in her excitement. “Quick! Go! 
Run ! You may be in time ! you may ! Oh, 
hurry, dear !” 

Jack dashed for his hat and coat without a word, 

27*^ 


The Black Lamb 


318 

took his wife in his arms and kissed her, then the 
door slammed after him, and Marion sank into the 
nearest chair and broke out sobbing. She cried so 
thoroughly that she never heard the bell ring a 
second time, nor Philippa’s step on the threshold. 

Welcome home !” Philippa cried, entering ; but 
the gay greetings died on her lips. She stood star- 
ing at Marion, visions of quarrel rising in her mind, 
then she ran to her friend, crying, anxiously, ""Oh, 
Marion, what is it? Where’s Jack? What is the 
matter?” 

Marion thrust the open letter into her friend’s 
hands and buried her face in a handkerchief. 
Much puzzled, Philippa carried it to the lamp, 
spread out the sheets, and read : 

"" Dear Old Boy, — By the time you receive this 
I shall have gone to my own place. Do not think 
hardly of me that I could not wait to say good-by. 
Old man, I knew you would try and persuade me to 
stay, and 1 cannot stay. I am going back to the 
East, where I belong ; to some quiet corner where 
the brethren will take me in, and where, perhaps, 
I shall find peace. 1 have always known that this 
was my place, and now, when you need me no 
longer, I shall try to find it. " When jack does not 
need you’ — these were your father’s very words — ‘ I 
give you leave.’ And now you do not need me any 
longer; you have Marion, and Marion loves you. 


The Black Lamb 


319 


and I feel sure your life will be a very happy one. 
Perhaps one of these days, if I get high enough, I 
may be permitted to see it with my spiritual eyes. 

1 look for that time, be sure ; but until that time 
we shall not meet again. 

During this last week 1 have tried to live this 
other life that 1 hate, and 1 have failed. You can 
have no conception of what these six days have* 
been ; and to-night I give up. I am beaten ; I turn 
my face toward my own country. Here it is all 
push and scramble, and he who pushes hardest and 
scrambles best is the one to win. There it is 
thought and silence, and the cycle of the worlds is 
as one day. For you, perhaps, the good things of 
this life are true and lasting ; for me it is different, 
and they have all failed me, honor, and friendship, 
and mother-love, one by one. 

Salutation and greeting, old friend. Forget 
me, if it pains you to remember ; and yet I have a 
comfort in the belief that you, at least, cannot for- 
get. When I go I shall have another name, and 
the world-life will drop from me, and I shall not be 
like the Noel Conway that you knew. It will all 
be different and quieter, and if I reach it, the end in 
nothingness. So good luck to you, Jack, and 
good-by. N. C. 

'^Give my love to Philippa. She has always 
been so kind/' 


320 


The Black Lamb 


So kind Philippa read the words in a pause, 
and then laughed softly, a thin, bitter laugh. She 
laid the letter down. 

Poor, poor fellow !” sobbed Marion, and Jack 
and 1 were just saying that he must come ; and Jack 
feels so badly I’' 

Philippa laid her hand heavily, comfortingly, on 
the bent head. 

''To go, lonely, like that I’' said poor Marion; 
"and I hoped, and you Oh, Phil I’’ 

^'Dontr said Philippa, in a sharp whisper. 
Then, after a silence, she spoke of other things. 

It was late when Jack returned. "It is no use, 
Marion,’' were his first words. " He sailed this 
morning. He has gone.” 

And all that evening and late into the night the 
three sat talking of him and their knowledge of 
him, — tenderly, as one speaks of the dead, — ten- 
derly, and without reproach. 

How little we understand each other ! How little 
we estimate our value to each other ! To those in 
a year of whose lives he had played a part, can Noel 
Conway ever be a faded memory ? To Jack, whose 
busy, prosperous life holds an empty corner for him, 
and to whom he is a loss not Marion nor the chil- 
dren can wholly compensate? To Lyndon, in 
whose mind he rests in a reverent ignorance? To 
Philippa, on her way through the world, a noble 


The Black Lamb 


321 


woman, a nature broad and deep and full ; to whom 
none ever turned in vain for mental or spiritual 
help ; small in words, but great in acts of love ; 
living her life far from the screaming campaign of 
her sisters ; spending herself for others ; the stimu- 
lant and tonic of younger natures ? If it had been 
granted to him to see all this, the woman’s life 
lived in its small niche, and making that niche 
beautiful ; not concerning herself much about abuse 
abroad, but very much about neglect at home ; 
despising none, overrating none, reserved to most, 
valuable beyond telling to a few, might it not have 
occurred to Noel that peace was to be found nearer 
home than India? For of the peace that passeth 
understanding my Philippa’s heart and mind were 
full. 

True, the possibilities of the future are infinite. 
Jack’s life has been an unusually active one, yet he 
and Marion often speak of a holiday journey which 
they shall make to India, a pilgrimage, when they 
shall seek shrine after shrine for the face of their 
friend. But as the years go on life’s burdens hardly 
lessen, and with young Jack at school and little 
Noel and Marion in the nursery, such a trip seems 
very far off indeed. 

Meanwhile, they do not let his name grow un- 
familiar on their lips ; and he is a luminous and 
heroic figure in the little world of their children. 
It is to these that his life furnishes comparison. 


322 


The Black Lamb 


''To be brave, and to know lots, and to fight, 
like Uncle Noel,” says Jack, the younger. 

"To be brave, to feel it hurt, and to bear it, like 
Uncle Noel,” says the namesake. 

" To be brave, and to do good for evil, like Uncle 
Noel,” says little Marion. 

Such words as these make the distance broad 
between them. Yet although they may not seek 
him, wherever he is, whether the blue southern 
sea curves before his eyes, or the Himalayan snows 
hedge the crowded world from his gaze, their love 
for him is undying, and he, if he has found the 
place he sought, must know it and be comforted. 












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